THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

MR.     AND     MHS. 
ALFRED     R.      GIFFIM 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST" 

or 
THE  POSSIBILITIES  OF  THE  WILL 

BY  D.  V.  BUSH 

is 
"A  BACKBONE  BUILDER" 

YOU  CAN  SUCCEED. 


Every  person  can  excell  in  some  kind  of  work — have 

you  found  your  work? 
Let  "Pike's  Peak  or  Bust"  help  you. 


THE  WORKS  OF  D.  V.  BUSH 


Tike's  Peak  or  Bust,"  or  The  Possibilities  of  the  Will. 
Soul  Poems  and  Other  Verse. 
Inspirational  Poems. 

Peace  Poems  and  Sausages. 

Just  Light  Stuff  in  Verse. 


"Humorous  Verse  on  Current  Events  and  Other  Things" 
is  a  monthly  periodical — a  get-up  and  take-off  in  verse. 


David  V.  Bush. 


Peace  Poems 

and 

Sausages 


By  DAVID  V.  BUSH 

Author  of 
"Pikes  Peak  or  Bust" 


'/  am  in  favor  of  world-wide  Peace, 
Spread  this  idea  and  war  will  cease. 


Copyright,  1915, 

by 

DAVID   V.   BUSH. 
Copyright,  1916, 

by 
DAVID   V.  BUSH. 


PS 
3^03 


TO  MY  MOTHER— 

Without  whose  determined  efforts, 
unflagging  zeal  and  inspiring  exam 
ple,  my  'Tike's  Peak"  of  life  could 
not  have  been  attained — this  book  is 
lovingly  dedicated. 


691952 


PREFACE 

Because  this  is  the  golden  time  of  all  ages 
to  create  a  world  wide  peace  sentiment,  the 
author  wrote  a  few  "Peace  Poems,"  feeling  he 
would  like  to  do  his  mite  in  furthering  the 
great  Peace  movement.  The  little  edition 
created  interest  and  comment  such  as  the 
following:  "We  have  both  read  them  thru 
a  number  of  times  and  think  they  are  the  best 
'editorial'  we  have  read  on  the  war."  Another 
referring  to  "The  Profanity  of  War": 
*  *  "It  strikes  me  as  written  by  a  man  who 
has  been  to  hell  and  back  again."  Another: 
"They  speak  of  a  spirit  that  leads.  Keep  up 
the  good  work." 

Actuated  by  the  desire  to  serve  mankind, 
no  matter  how  small  the  service — (for  the 
one-talent  man  is  just  as  responsible  for  his 
efforts  as  the  five) — and  encouraged  by  such 
comment  as  above,  I  decided  to  add  more 
Peace  Poems  and  others  with  a  few  "Sau 
sages"  and  send  forth  this  volume  to  the  pub 
lic  with  the  hope  that  International  Peace  will 
be  a  reality  in  this  generation.  If  some  one 
is  helped  to  see  the  "light";  if  a  smile  is 
smiled  or  a  soul  encouraged  I  shall  feel  that 
my  efforts  shall  not  have  been  in  vain. 

DAVID  V.  BUSH. 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

The  first  edition  of  "Peace  Poems  and 
Sausages"  had  more  errors  than  my  most 
severe  critic  could  have  wished  for;  more 
mistakes  than  my  most  deadly  enemy  could 
have  prayed  for;  but  a  greater  sale  than  the 
most  sanguine  could  have  expected.  Hence, 
this  edition  goes  to  the  public  with  many 
errors  corrected,  many  mistakes  doctored,  but 
by  no  means  perfect,  either  in  construction 
thought  or  rhythm;  but  with  enough  sweat 
of  blood — together  with  the  great  joy  that 
comes  with  restful  toil — to  make  the  his 
tory  of  verse  writing  much  more  interesting 
than  fairy  tales. 

When  the  Great  War  broke  out  I  saw  a 
chance  to  strike  a  blow — tho  feeble,  the  best 
I  could — at  the  greatest  curse — War — that 
has  ever  clutched  man  in  its  foul  grasp,  saving 
superstitution.  The  "blow"  might  have  been 
struck  with  softer  language,  better  rhythm, 
and  neater  style  had  I  waited  another  decade; 
but  we  must  interweave  idealism  with  the 
practical,  if  we  expect  to  reach  that  goal 
ahead  which  the  All  Wise  One  has  staked  out 
for  all  of  us. 

My  ideals  were  buried  when  "Peace  Poems 
and  Sausages"  went  to  the  public  but  I  think 
no  harm  was  done  thru  the  hibernation. 

The  success  of  the  first  edition  will  develop 
my  idealism  rather  than  retard  it. 

I  shall  always  strike  at  War,  but  I  sincerely 
hope  that  long  before  my  pen  shall  have 
ceased  to  write,  Peace  will  have  come  to  stay 
forever. 

D.  V.  BUSH. 


"And  they  shall  beat  their  swords 
into  plowshares,  and  their  spears 
into  pruning  hooks ;  nation  shall  not 
lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither 
shall  they  learn  war  any  more." — 
Issaiah  2:6-. 


AMERICA'S  PRAYER 

God  of  our  fathers  who  fought  for 
aye 

And  gave  us  freedom  here; 
Make  us  so  strong  in  faith  of  peace 

There'll  be  no  war  to  fear. 


I    PRINTING 
SIOUX    FALLS.    3.    O. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


WOMEN  AND  WAR— AND  OTHERS: 

Breed  Before  You  Die 52 

Why  Give  Birth  to  Men 55 

The  Women  Pay  The  Price 56 

Raise  Babies  To  Kill 60 

The  Christ  Is  Near 62 

Soul  Language 64 

Her  Boy  and  War 65 

When  Will  The  Soldiers  Strike? 68 

To  Canada 70 

The  War  Lord's  Judgment 71 

Departing  Glory 72 

Women  on  The  War  Path 73 

Has  Christianity  Failed?   75 

My  Pledge 77 

Benediction 78 

America's  Prayer 12 

PEACE  POEMS  (See  Women  and  War) : 

Belgium  Has  Covered  Herself  With  Glory 50 

The  Handwriting  On  The  Wall 18 

Hell's  Turned  Loose 20 

Burning  The  Dead 23 

If  Not  Burned  They  Stink 24 

Everybody  Rooting  For  Uncle  Sam 26 

The  Light 27 

The  Dying  Soldier 29 

It  Sickens  Us 31 

Little  Belgium  Don't  You  Cry 32 

The  Profanity  of  War 36 

Business  Men  Awake 38 

The  Bravery  of  Germans 40 

War  and  Dueling — Mr.  Muling 42 

Sink  To  Death  But  Be  Cool 43 


14  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Down  with  the  War  Lords 44 

The  Belgian  Bread  Line 46 

I  Live  For  King  and  Fatherland 47 

Peace  Reformers 49 

The  End — International  Courts 17 

INSPIRATIONAL  POEMS: 

The  Successful  Man 85 

There's  No  Such  Thing  as  Failure 87 

Please  Don't  Stop  Kickin'  My  Name  Around .  .  88 

Don't  Lose  Your  Goat 90 

I  Will 92 

Never  Mind  The  Knocker 93 

Never  Say  Die 95 

Life's  Gethsemane '  97 

The  Mother  Heart 98 

You  Can't  Keep  a  Good  Man  Down 99 

The  Man  Who  Comes  Back 100 

The  Way  to  Win 101 

Where  There's  a  Will  There's  a  Way 103 

The  Man  Who's  Afraid  of  The  Cars 104 

Handicapped  For  Life 105 

Peace  Reformers 49 

My  Daughter,  My  Little  Maxine 81 

SOCIAL  POEMS  AND  OTHERS: 

Woman  Suffrage — Beaten  But  Not  Defeated . .  1 1 1 

She  Lives  on  Six  Dollars  a  Week 109 

Gossip 114 

Babies  and  Hogs 116 

No  Babies  Wanted  in  This  Flat 118 

King  Alcohol  Bows  to  Suffragettes 119 

Good  Roads 122 

Wilson's  Watchful  Waiting 124 


TABLE,  OF  CONTENTS  15 

Aberdeen 126 

Our  Boy  Goes  On  Ahead 127 

Capital  Punishment 129 

Ode  To  a  Landmark 131 

It's  You 132 

SAUSAGES: 

Life  Is  What  We  Make  It 135 

Why  My  Wife  Left  Me 137 

Why  I  Am  Single 139 

Suppose 141 

The  High  Cost  of  Living 143 

What  a  Wife  Should  Expect  From  Her  Husband  144 

What  a  Man  Should  Expect  From  His  Wife ....  146 

What's  Wrong  With  Matrimony 147 

Catching  a  Morning  Train 148 

The  Talkative  Man 150 

The  Talkative  Woman 152 

How  to  Fight  Mosquitoes 154 

A  Skylark's  Ode  to  the  Ford 155 

Ode  to  a  Powder  Rag 156 

Easter 158 

Remaking  Myself 159 

Determinnayshun 160 


PEACE  POEMS  17 

THE  END— INTERNATIONAL  COURTS 


When  this  war  is  over — believe  me  my  friend — 

'Tis  the  bloodiest  of  any  age; 
We're  heartsick  and  faint  from  blood  and  its  taint, 

We'll  make  a  cleaner  page. 

And  that  page  will  teach — believe  me  my  friend — 

That  peace  is  far  better  than  war; 
And,  affirming  for  peace,  all  wars  then  will  cease, 

And  we'll  settle  disputes  at  the  bar. 

When  this  war  is  over — believe  me  my  friend — 

Little  need  for  navies  and  forts; 
For  bankrupt  and  heartsick — man's  torn  to  the 
quick — 

We'll  be  glad  to  have  treaties  and  courts. 

When  this  war  is  over — believe  me  my  friend — 

Our  minds  on  peace  and  its  fruits 
Will  be  established  for  aye,  and  no  one  will  say 

There  is  glory  in  soldiers  and  suits. 

When  this  war  is  over — believe  me  my  friend — 
We've  had  so  much  horror  and  fright — 

So  much  to  disgust,  we'll  be  glad  to  be  just, 
Love  others — refrain  from  all  fight. 

When  this  war  is  over — believe  me  my  friend — 

Let's  go  for  commerce  and  art; 
Cease  battlefields  gory  and  war  lies  so  hoary — 

And  for  peace,  let's  all  do  our  part. 


1 8  PEACE  POEMS 


THE  HAND  WRITING  ON  THE  WALL 


"Weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  want 
ing."  That  was  written  long  ago. 

Now  we  see  the  same  repeated ;  warring  lords 
are  bound  to  go. 

They've  ruled  too  long  the  "common  people," 
but  now  their  thrones  shall  fall, 

For  this  European  war  is  their  hand  writing 
on  the  wall. 

Business  men,  tradesmen,  men  of  rank  and 

file, 
Had  thought  on  peace,  had  talked  of  peace, 

fact  peace  was  quite  the  style, 
When  all  at  once  the  monarchs  quarrelled; 

but  now  their  thrones  shall  fall, 
For  this  European  war  is  their  hand  writing 

on  the  wall. 

If  we  talk  peace,  that's  what  we'll  have;  if 

war,  that's  what  we  get. 
The  lords  had  talked  of  war;  oh  war  their 

minds  were  set, 
They  talked  war  while  men  talked  peace,  but 

now  their  thrones  shall  fall, 
For  this  European  war  is  their  hand  writing 

on  the  wall. 


HAND  WRITING  ON  THE  WALL  19 

We'll  not  think  war,  we  will  think  peace. 

Peace  is  what  we  want, 
And  when  the  common  man  says  "Peace",  to 

the  war  lords  its  "Avaunt". 
So  pack  your  duds  and  start  to  go,  ye  war 

lords  one  and  all, 
For  this  European  war  is  your  hand  writing 

on  the  wall. 


Now  we're  talking  brotherhood,  just  that  and 

not  the  axe. 
We  are  thru  with  you,  we  are  thru  with  war, 

with  war  and  its  dire  tax. 
So  pack  your  trunk  and  say  goodbye,  ye  war 

lords  great  and  small, 
For  this  European  war  is  your  hand  writing 

on  the  wall. 


20  PEACE  POEMS 


HELL'S  TURNED  LOOSE 


"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 

No  advance  yet  gained."    But  say, 

The  "digging  in,"  the  Krupp  guns 

Beat  the  world  for  killing  sons 

Of  mothers  true  who  give  their  lives — 

The  burdens  great,  of  suffering  wives ! 

"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 

No  advance  yet  gained".    But  say, 

"Hell's  turned  loose!"  say  saint  and  rabble, 

"With  war  lords  leading  in  the  saddle." 


"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 
No  decisive  battle  won."    But  say, 
The  soldiers  slain  and  money  spent 
At  beck  and  call  of  war  lords  lent — 
Ruling  lords  by  "right  Divine" — 
Homes  are  wrecked  and  children  pine 
For  fathers,  sons  and  husbands  slain — 
Those  loved  who  will  not  come  again. 
"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 
No  decisive  battle  won."    But  say, 
"Hell's  turned  loose"  cry  saint  and  rabble, 
"With  war  lords  leading  in  the  saddle." 


HELL'S  TURNED  LOOSE  2 1 

"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 
No  victory  that  counts."    But  say, 
The  slaughtered  men,  the  stench  of  blood, 
The  smell  of  smoke,  the  cries  to  God; 
Fields  a-famine,  the  carnage  rank 
As  seething  hell — a  butcher's  tank — 
The  bodies  burned,  and  carcasses  stiff; 
Dismembered  arms,  and  souls  adrift; 
The  broken  legs,  the  shattered  jaws; 
The  mangled  forms — God's  broken  laws — 
Gun's  shrieking  crack,  while  cannon's  roar 
And  hiss:     "Our  men  will  come  no  more." 
Shrapnel  screeching;  fire  and  pillage; 
All  homes  are  gone  in  town  and  village. 
Stinking  dead  on  the  firing  line; 
Butchered  sons  on  sands  so  fine; 
Husbands  shot  and  blown  to  pieces; 
Among  nations  prosperity  ceases. 
"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 
No  victory  that  counts."     But  say, 
"Hell's  turned  loose"  cry  saint  and  rabble, 
"With  war  lords  leading  in  the  saddle." 


"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 

No  vantage  point  gained."    But  say, 

The  devil  dances,  smirks  and  fiddles 

While  hell  fights  hell;  this  war  hell  riddles 

Man  and  beast,  church  and  school, 

And  laughs  at  thought  that  "Peace  can  rule." 

"Heavy  fighting  all  along  the  way; 

No  vantage  point  gained,"  But  say, 

"Hell's  turned  loose"  cry  saint  and  rabble, 

"With  war  lords  leading  in  the  saddle." 


22  PEACE  POEMS 


Why  not  put  Christ  into  the  saddle? 
The  Christ  who  loves  both  saint  and  rabble, 
The  Christ  who  gave  His  life  for  man; 
The  Christ  who'll  teach  us  that  we  can 
Love  our  enemy  as  well  as  friend, 
Our  neighbors  as  ourselves;  and  then 
There'll  be  no  cry  of  saint  and  rabble 
That    "hell's    turned    loose    and    rides    the 
saddle." 


BURNING  THE  DEAD 


("The  bodies  are  burned  promptly  in  spe 
cial  furnaces  erected  just  outside  of  Brus 
sels." — News  item  of  the  great  war.) 


"BLUR;  SWISH;  CLANG;  BANG!" 

As  we  neared  the  huge  human  urn, 
That's  how  the  furnace  sang 

As  they  threw  the  bodies  to  burn. 


"BLUR;    SWISH;    CLANG;    BANG! 

Swish;  clang;  siz;  burn!" 
'Tis  one  continuous  jam, 
As  they  fill  this  pitiless  urn. 


"Blur;  swish;  clang;  bang!" 

As  we  neared  the  huge  human  urn, 

That's  how  the  furnace  sang 
As  they  threw  the  bodies  to  burn. 


24  PEACE  POEMS 


IF  NOT  BURNED  THEY  STINK 


"Trains  which  we  call  cemetery  trains,  full 
of  piled  up  dead  soldiers,  continue  to  arrive 
from  the  front.  They  contain  bundles  of 
dead;  that  is,  four  bodies  tied  together  to  fa 
cilitate  transportation.  The  bodies  are  burn 
ed  promptly  in  special  furnaces  erected  just 
outside  of  Brussels." — News  item  of  the  great 
war. 


Stink!  Stink!  ye  noble  braves, 

Ye'll  all  be  burned  tonight; 
Ye  fell  in  the  fight;  now  feed  burning 
staves ; 

With  no  time  for  a  funeral  rite. 

Stink!  Stink!  ye  who  were  men, 
You've  been  shot  and  dead  too  long 

To  have  any  care  or  thought  but  when 
Can  we  burn  you — burn  without  song. 

Stink!  Stink!  ye  bundles  of  dead; 

Too  many  to  burn  right  away; 
We  tie  you  in  bundles  (no  funeral  rite 
said) 

And  throw  you  to  burn  as  if  hay. 

Stink!  Stink!  ye  that  were  song; 

Stink  on — four  tied  in  a  pack — 
You've  been  food  for  bullets,  food  for 

guns, 

You've  gone  where  there's  no  coming 
back 


IF  NOT  BURNED  THEY  STINK  25 

Save  tied  together  in  bundles  like  this. 

Ye  who  were  men  and  could  think 
Are  carrion  rot  where  bullets  hiss 

And  other  brave  men  do  stink. 

Stink!  Stink!  ye  brawny  sons; 

Stink  on  in  bundles  of  four! 
Stink!  Stink  ye  noble  ones, 

Stink!  —  'tis  man's  bloody  gore. 

That's  your  reward  for  e'er  being  born, 

Stink!  until  you  burn! 
Our  souls  aghast;  our  heart  strings  torn 

As  we  think  of  the  field  and  this  urn! 

Stink!  Stink!  that's  what  you're  for; 

(That's  how  the  "war  devils"  feel;) 
Die  and  stink;  the  result  of  war. 

Man's  under  the  war  lord's  heel. 


When  in  peace  will  we  learn  to  be? 

No  fighting  or  shelling  or  forts? 
When  men  become  wise,  O  don't  you  see, 

And  settle  disputes  in  the  courts. 


26  PEACE  POEMS 


EVERYBODY  ROOTING  FOR  UNCLE  SAM 


"Everybody  rooting  for  Uncle  Sam!" 
He's  worth  the  root  and  all  of  that, 

So  root  on,  sons  of  Cain  and  Ham, 
He's  worth  the  root,  you  bet  your  hat! 

Everybody  rooting  for  peaceful  Uncle, 
He  keeps  his  head,  stays  on  the  job, 

He  sues  for  peace,  knows  no  rumple 
We  cannot  stop — our  own  Nabob. 

Everybody  rooting  for  Uncle  Sam. 

Root  on,  yea  root  while  he  keeps 

peace ; 
Then  we'll  see  other  nations  can 

Follow  suit,  and  make  wars  cease. 

So  here's  three  cheers  for  Uncle  Sam! 
Three  cheers  for  Sam  and  three  for 

peace! 

The  world  "thru  hell"  sees  he's  the  man 
Who  leads  the  way  to  make  wars 
cease. 


PEACE  POEMS  27 


THE  LIGHT 


"Civilization  has  gone  to  smash; 

And  Christian  ethics  dead; 
The  arts  and  trades  are  likewise  gone" — 

The  vile  result  of  lead. 

The  race  of  man;  his  high  pursuits 
Will  plod  on  thru  the  night; 

For  friends  of  man  and  foes  of  kings, 
Methinks  I  see  a  light! 

But  for  a  time  the  soul  is  shocked; 

And  man's  lost  out — don't  fear — 
From  all  this  blood  and  bullets  thick, 

We'll  learn  a  lesson  clear. 

I  see  the  end  of  shot  and  shell, 
And  fields  with  dreadful  sight; 

I  see  a  solid  race  of  men — 
Thru  clouds  there  is  a  light. 

The  Light  is  this — O  sons  of  God — 
Tho  dark  may  be  the  night, 

The  time  will  come  when  war  will  end, 
And  man  no  more  will  fight. 

It's  dark  just  now — it  always  is 
Before  the  break  of  dawn — 

But  light  will  come,  and  war  will  go, 
The  lords  are  now  in  pawn. 


28  PEACE  POEMS 

Civilization  and  all  things  good — 
They  are  not  gone  to  smash ; 

Our  eyes  are  blinded  for  the  time 
And  now  see  but  the  gash. 

But  soon  the  smoke  will  blow  away — 
Though  shattered  and  besmirched, 

We'll  see  another  race  come  on — 
A  brotherhood  emerge. 

Dark  is  the  way,  as  we  see  the  way 
Just  now,  my  son  of  man; 

Light  is  the  path  we  see  beyond; 
God'll  end  what  He  began. 

Soon  will  plowshares  and  pruning  hooks 
From  swords  and  spears  be  made; 

When  this  dark  night  with  all  its  clouds 
Shall  from  our  vision  fade. 

And  then  the  Light — Lo !  what  a  Light — 
To  think  all  wars  shall  cease ! 

The  light  I  see  thru  this  dark  day 
Is  brotherhood  and  peace. 


PEACE  POEMS  29 


THE  DYING  SOLDIER 


"O  Hell !    It's  here !    The  smell  of  smoke, 
The  groans  of  dying  comrades  round; 

The  shrieks  to  God  that  wars  provoke ; 
With  dreamless  dead  I'll  soon  be  found. 

"This  wound  is  like  a  firebrand. 

I  catch  my  breath;  my  head  will  break; 
I  dare  not  weep,  for  I'm  a  man 

Soon  to  die  for  my  country's  sake. 

"They  said  our  country  needed  us. 

We  thought  'twas  true — came  with  a  will; 
But  now  we  see  'tis  a  ruler's  fuss, 

And  we,  the  soldiers,  pay  the  bill. 

"What  care  the  lords  of  war — ah  me! — 
That  I  must  die?    This  wound,  dear! 

This  pain,  O  God!    How  can  it  be 
That  I  must  suffer,  linger  here? 

"Sweetheart,  goodby.    This  stinging  pain! 

I'm — for  God's  sake — air! 
Help!  I  say!  I  beg  again! 

For  God's  sake,  help — a-i-r — h-e-l-p! 
So— t-h-e-r-e!" 

*  *  ^r  * 


30  PEACE  POEMS 

Another  son  for  his  country's  sake 

Lies  cold  and  mute — lies  stiff  and  black; 

Another  mother's  heart  must  ache; 
A  royal  lover  will  not  come  back. 

O  mothers,  fathers,  sisters,  all, 

'Tis  not  your  kindred's,  soldier's  fault 

That  you  are  weeping  for  their  fall. 
Is  it  not  time  that  war  shall  halt? 


"Away  with  war;  let  us  have  peace," 
That  is  the  slogan  for  this  age. 

"And  we'll  not  stop  until  wars  cease, 
So  help  us,  God!"  say  man  and  sage. 


PEACE  POEMS 


IT  SICKENS  US 


We  are  sick  of  war;  we  are  sick  of  warring; 

We  are  sick  of  guns  and  killing; 
We  are  ready  now  to  sue  for  peace; 

We  are  sick  of  grills;  we  are  sick  of  grilling. 

We  are  sick  of  scars;  we  are  sick  of  scarring; 

We  are  sick  of  bombs  and  bombing; 
We  are  ready  now  to  sheathe  the  sword; 

We  are  sick  of  guns;  we  are  sick  of  gunning. 

We  are  sick  of  raids;  we  are  sick  of  raiding; 

We  are  sick  of  dashes  and  dashings. 
We  are  ready  now  to  call  a  halt; 

We  are  sick  of  crash;  we  are  sick  of  crashings. 

We  are  sick  of  fire;  we  are  sick  of  firing; 

We  are  sick  of  shells  and  shelling; 
We  are  ready  now  to  have  World  Peace; 

We  are  sick  of  hell;  we  are  sick  of  helling. 


32  PEACE,  POEMS 


LITTLE  BELGIUM  DON'T  YOU  CRY 


"To  the  American  women  nearly  a  million  Belgian 
mothers  have  held  out  their  young  and  asked:  'Won't  you 
please  help?'" — World's  Work,  January,  1915. 


"Our  homes  are  gone,  our  cows  are  gone,  our  horses, 

food,  likewise  our  men. 
We  are  starving  in   brave   Belgium — we   are   dying; 

O  please  to  send 
Flour — just  the  cheap   kind — flour,    milk   and   some 

corn  meal. 
Milk  for  babes  whose  lives  are  tender,  meal  and  milk — 

God  will  remember — 
For  mothers'  milk  is  dried  or  drying;  our  babes  are 

sick;  our  babes  are  crying; 
Hearts  are  bleeding;   Belgium's  pleading;  babes  and 

mothers  nearly  dying. 
Just  a  little  of  your  bounty  will  relieve  in  town  and 

county, 
God'll  remember  you  were  tender  with  your  milk  and 

sympathy. 
Our  homes  were  sacked,  our  treasures  packed;   our 

braves  killed  off  like  bees. 
O  America!  O  America!     Won't  you  kindly  help  us, 

please? 
We  were  working,  never  shirking,  when  the  soldiers 

came  our  way; 


LITTLE  BELGIUM  DON'T  YOU  CRY      33 

We  had  money,  milk  and  honey — then  not  beggars; 

O,  sirs,  nay. 

Unexpected  shot  and  shell,  all  around  our  country  fell; 
Our  braves  were  killed  off  just  like  cattle;  we  were  in 

the  midst  of  hell. 
We  were  beggars,  aye  sir,  beggars,  in  the  twinkling  of 

an  eye. 
O  America!  O  America!   Whom  God  of  all  has  blessed 

so  well, 
Send  us  bread,  our  men  are  dead;  we  have  not  a  thing 

to  sell." 

Will  America,  our  America,  listen  to  the  orphans'  plea? 
Yes  America,  our  America,  will  give  heed — our  own 

country — 
To  the  pleadings  and  heart  bleedings  of  poor  Belgium 

and  her  babes. 
Yes,  brave  Belgium,  though  all  helldom  try  to  starve 

and  kill  your  babes, 
We  will  share  and  we  will  care.    Yes,  America  with 

her  sons 
Whom  God  blesses,  now  confesses  it's  her  duty  to  your 

wee  ones. 
So,  God  helping,  there'll  be  less  scalping  when  your 

Uncle  Sam  steps  in, 
And  doth  shower  milk  and  flour  from  his  overflowing 

bin. 
So  then  take  heart,  we'll  do  our  part,  little  Belgium  on 

the  strand! 
For  we  love  you  and  to  woo  you  is  the  pride  of  Uncle 

Sam. 
We're  not  failing,  ships  are  sailing  'cross  the  sea  to 

Belgium  land; 
And  tomorrow  you  can  borrow  all  you  need  from  Uncle 

Sam. 


34  PEACE  POEMS 

When  this  night,  this  awful  night,  shall  have  passed 

long  since  away, 
Then  brave  Belgium,  our  loved  Belgium,  will  have 

cargoes  in  the  bay, 

And  we'll  be  "pals",  our  boys  and  "gals",  little  Bel 
gium,  little  brave; 
And  together  we  will  weather,  every  mother  and  her 

babe. 
So  wipe  your  eye,  and  don't  you  cry,  little  Belgium 

by  the  sea; 
Your  babes  shall  live  while  we  can  give  (we'll  give 

not  grudgingly). 
You're  not  beggars  nor  bootleggers,  like  some  others 

we  can  name. 
You're  true  blue.     The  likes  of  you,  little  Belgium, 

never  came 
To  bless  man,  and  never  can,  without  our  love  and 

sympathy. 
So  Uncle  Sam  and  his  whole  land,  you  can  count  on, 

yes  sir-ree! 
Our  hats  are  off,  there's  not  a  scoff,  to  Belgium  bravest 

of  the  brave, 
In  America,  our  America,  and  your  helpless  we  will 

save. 
Should  America,  our  America,  not  be  true  and  kind 

,       to  you, 
Then  would  God  curse  all  our  sod  and  withdraw  from 

us  His  dew. 
But  no  danger,  little  stranger — we  remember  days 

gone  by — 
And  we  know  that  what  we  sow  we  shall  reap;   so 

don't  you  cry. 
Uncle  Sam,  he  is  the  man;  he's  in  love  with  the  likes 

of  you. 


LITTLE  BELGIUM  DON'T  YOU  CRY       35 

So  wipe  your  eye  and  don't  you  cry,  little  Belgium, 

brave  and  true; 
We  do  sigh  when  babies  cry — cry  for  milk  and  meal 

and  bread. 
We'll  be  there  with  every  care,  since  your  sons  and 

men  are  dead. 
So  wipe  your  eye  and  don't  you  cry,  little  Belgium 

by  the  sea, 
Your  babes  shall  live  while  we  can  give  bread,  milk 

and  sympathy. 


36  PEACE  POEMS 


THE  PROFANITY  OF  WAR 


(A  German  army  annihilated. — News  item, 
December,  1914.) 


Napoleon,  when  told  that  his  futile  attempt 
on  Moscow  had  cost  him  a  million  soldiers, 
replied:  "What  care  I  for  the  lives  of  a  mil 
lion  men?"  That  sentiment  is  prevalent,  very 
prevalent — prevalent  with  a  big  P — among 
the  "war  devils"  today. 


"An  entire  army  shot  away! 

Two  thousand  men  or  more  met  death ! " 
"Bah!  What  care  we?"  say 

Heartless  war  lords,  under  breath. 

"Any  entire  army  gone  to  hell ! 

But  lead  on  more,  and  right  away! 
Forward  march!    Take  aim!     Shell!" 

Cry  war  lords,  and  we'll  slay  and  slay 

"Until  the  enemy  bites  the  dust, 

And  cries  and  begs — for  a  truce  they 
yell— 

Or  God  damn  'em,  we  will  thrust 
Another  bunch  to  be  shot  to  hell! 

"Lead  on  old  guard,  the  grenadiers; 

They've  stood  for  targets  many  a  time; 
They've  stood  the  brunt  for  many  years, 

But  curse  'em,  damn  'em!  God  says 
they're  mine! 


THE  PROF  A  NIT  Y  OF  WA  R  37 

"And  are  for  me  and  for  my  sons. 

They  must  expect  to  fight,  for  aye, 
For  hell!     It's  we  who  bought  the  guns, 

So  on  to  death,  ye  fools,  today! 

"For  isn't  it  we,  by  'right  divine', 

Who  hold  your  life?    You  are  our  own, 

Then  Christ!  go  on;  with  your  life  sign 
The  deed  which  saves  to  us  our  throne. 

"To  hell  with  men  and  damn  'em  too! 

They're  only  beasts — the  common  cur — 
So  on  with  death  till  the  air  is  blue 

With  yells  and  curses.  Profane?   Yes,  sir! 

"For  who  can  dabble  with  stinking  slain, 
Dead  and  stinking  in  pyres  array, 

Unless  he  hardens  soul  and  brain 

And  rather  curse  and  damn  than  pray? 

"So  on  to  battle!     Damn  'em!     See! 

Lead  on  another  bunch,  galore! 
What  the  devil — bah! — care  we 

If  ten  thousand  armies  rot  from  war!" 


When  men  hear  Christ  say:     "Peace  be 

still," 

Then  no  profanity  nor  fear, 
For  who  can  kill,  and  who  can  fill 

The  air  with  cursing  when  Christ  is 
near? 


38  PEACE  POEMS 


BUSINESS  MEN  AWAKE 


On  February  15  the  Electric  Steel  Company 
of  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  refused  to  bid  on  a  con 
tract  which  would  have  netted  that  company 
$450,000.  The  contract  was  for  one  million 
drop  forge  shells,  wanted  by  the  British  gov 
ernment  to  use  in  warfare. 

Attached  to  the  blue  prints  returned  to  the 
commission  by  the  company  was  a  note 
which  read: 

"For  humanitarian  reasons  this  company 
finds  itself  obliged  to  refuse  to  consider  the 
contract." 

Charles  E.  Bryson,  president  and  general 
manager  of  the  company,  said:  "Our  com 
pany  refused  to  consider  this  contract  be 
cause  we  don't  think  warring  nations  should 
be  encouraged.  As  long  as  they  are  able  to 
purchase  supplies  of  this  nature  the  war 
will  continue." — Newspaper  report  of  the 
great  war. 


If  business  men  would  say  the  word, 
Not  counting  sage  and  bakers: 

Just  BUSINESS  MEN,  we'd  sheathe  the 

sword 
And  stop  these  war  men-fakirs. 

Just  think  of  it,  the  business  man 
Could  put  a  stop  to  fighting! 

No  need  of  others  in  this  land 
To  send  the  war  lords  kiting. 


BUSINESS  MEN  AWAKE  39 

But  let  us  add  to  business  men 

A  few  from  trades  and  art, 
And  see  how  quickly  it  would  end, 

If  ALL  but  did  their  part. 

Awake  ye  men,  ye  business  men! 

Awake  "ye  men  of  Athens!" 
Awake  ye  men  in  town  and  glen 

Awake  and  see  what  happens! 

Yes,  business  men  can  stop  this  rage! 

Then  do  not  wait  for  others, 
And  write  it  large  on  history's  page  : 

Ye  are  mankind's  real  lovers. 


40  PEACE  POEMS 


THE  BRAVERY  OF  GERMANS 


"Heaps  of-  dead  Germans,  victims  of  a  series  of  relentless 
and  bloody  charges  against  the  Allies'  trenches  this  morning, 
form  the  Kaiser's  birthday  present.  The  soldiers  repeatedly 
charged,  but  were  repulsed  in  the  vicinity  of  Rheims  and 
Garonne.  The  fighting  along  the  wooded  heights  west  of 
Garonne  was  most  furious.  There  desperate  infantry  charges 
followed,  the  Germans  singing  patriotic  songs  on  account  of  the 
Kaiser's  birthday.  He  was  59  years  old." — News  item. 


The  Kaiser's  birthday — a  present  they'll  give — 
That's  the  way  of  the  Germans  so  true! 

"Three  cheers  for  the  day  and  long  may  he  live. 
And  now  for  our  present  to  you. 

"We'll   fight  and  we'll   kill,   and   seize   vantage 
ground 

And  add  to  your  kingdom  some  land — 
That  be  our  present;   prepare!   trumpets  sound! 

With  our  blood  we  will  soak  up  the  sand. 

"One  repulse  isn't  much!     On  again  to  the  fray! 

Twice  beaten  isn't  worth  counting  lost! 
Again  we  march  on — keep  it  up  all  the  day — 

With  heaps  of  dead  Germans  the  cost. 

"A  present  to  you,  our  ruler  and  lord! 

March  on  to  the  bugle's  shrill  call! 
Another  attack  with  powder  and  sword — 

And  heaps  of  dead  Germans  that  fall. 


THE  BRA  VER  Y  OF  GERMANS  41 

"  'Tis  your  birthday  O  King;  we  want  to  be  true, 

We  know  you  will  smile  if  we  win; 
So  blow,  bugle,  blow!  march  on!  say  adieu; 

For  heaps  of  dead  Germans  's  no  sin 

"When  a  birthday  rolls  'round  for  the  Kaiser, 
So  fill  up  the  ranks !     Charge !  the  air  's  blue ! 

With  life  no  German's  a  miser; 

So  we  heap  up  dead  Germans  for  you. 

"When  evening  falls,  defeated  and  tired! 

Each  German,  a  German  clear  through; 
We  did  all  we  could — under  shell  and  in  fire 

To  present  a  nice  present  to  you. 

"  'Twas  on  your  fifty-ninth  birthday,  O  king, 
Encamped  by  heaps  of  dead,  so  true! 

We  did  all  we  could,  a  victory  to  bring — 
We  heaped  up  dead  Germans  for  you." 


42  PEACE  POEMS 


WAR  AND  DUELING— MR.  MULING 


What's  the  difference  betwen  war  and  dueling? 

You  might  ask  Pop  or  Mr.  Muling. 
And  they  would  say,  without  delay, 
"No  difference  at  all,"  Mr.  Muling. 

Then  have  no  wars  as  we  have  no  dueling; 

Is  that  not  logical  and  sane? 
So  answer  please — you're  not  at  ease — 
What  say  you  Pop  or  Mr.  Muling? 

If  it's  disgrace — this  curse  of  dueling — 
No  longer  thought  it's  quite  the  thing, 
Then  on  its  face,  war  is  disgrace. 
What  say  you  Pop  or  Mr.  Muling? 

Let's  deal  with  war,  as  now  with  dueling, 

Call  it  a  part  of  bygone  age, 
And  put  a  stop  to  ancient  rot 
And  quit  base  war  as  well  as  dueling? 

I  see  my  friend  you  too  would  end 

This  foolish,  dreadful,  hellish  fighting. 
You  too  would  dump  all  in  a  lump, 
And  send  war  lords  and  ships  a-kiting. 


43 


SINK  TO  DEATH  BUT  BE  COOL 


"The  other  day,  when  the  British  dreadnaught  Formidable 
went  down  in  a  storm,  crushed  like  an  eggshell  by  torpedoes  or 
mines,  her  Captain  Loxley,  was  on  the  bridge  as  she  sank;  and 
his  last  words  were:  "Steady  men;  it's  all  right;  keep  cool; 
do  not  get  in  a  panic;  be  British." — News  item. 


Steady  men,  all  's  right;  the  times  say  so; 

Go  down  to  your  death  like  braves; 
Steady,  all  's  right;  be  sure  not  to  show 

Emotion,  as  ye  sink  in  the  waves. 

Keep  cool,  ye  brave  ones,  you're  going  to  death; 

'Tis  war — the  worst  of  all  crimes — 
Keep  cool,  ye  brave  ones,  you'll  soon  lose  your  breath, 

'Tis  the  fate  of  men  in  our  times. 

Ye  braves,  get  not  into  a  panic; 

All  's  right  there;  steady;  keep  cool; 
You'll  soon  gasp  for  life,  then  like  the  Titanic 

Be  swallowed  in  ocean's  great  pool. 

To  enlist  as  a  fighter  and  learn  how  to  kill, 

Is  the  training  of  men  of  all  creeds, 
But  rest  ye  in  this,  as  ye  sink  stiff  and  still, 

The  future  will  change  such  deeds. 

'Twill  not  be  the  slayer;  'twill  be  the  life  giver 
And  the  race  benefactors  who're  braves; 

They'll  frown  on  all  bullets  and  shelling  that  shiver, 
And  call  him,  the  greatest,  who  saves. 


44  PEACE  POEMS 


DOWN  WITH  THE  WAR  LORDS 


"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 
"Down  with  the  bloody  rulers!"  say 
Men  and  women — the  cry  shall  last — 
"We're  through  with  such;  their  die  is 

cast," 

Because  we  read,  lay  upon  lay, 
"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 


"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 

She  sailed  o'er  a  mine  in  Chili's  bay. 

When  shock!   shock!   "Say,  what  is 

that?" 

A  bomb's  set  off;  the  ship's  a-crack, 
The  work  is  done;  the  ship's  aleak — 
No  use  to  cry,  no  use  to  speak 
Of  saving  lives  or  wiring  home, 
Two  thousand  men  beneath  the  foam 
Will  sleep  tonight  in  a  watery  grave, 
While  man  kills  man,  and  thus  does 

pave 

The  future  way  with  debt  on  debt 
For  posterity;  and  yet 
A  second  generation  will 
Be  bound  by  shackles  of  the  bill 
Of  war,  contracted  through  race  fear, 
And  false  conception  of  what  is  dear. 


DOWN  WITH  THE  WAR  LORDS  45 

"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 
It's  just  a  tale  of  war,  we  say; 
Another  cruiser  with  all  her  men 
To  die;  but  that's  not  all,  for  then 
The  groans  and  cries,  the  shrieks  and 

moans 
Of  wives   and   mothers,   the   ruined 

homes, 

Because  another  ship,  they  say, 
Was  sunk,  and  all  men  lost,  today. 

"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 
When  will  this  stop?  O  war,  away! 
Down  with  the  rulers,  one  and  all, 
Who  rule  to  fight;  their  men  to  call 
To  arms  for  their  own  lust,  or  hate, 
Or  fame,  or  glory,  their  names  to 
make. 

"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 
Down  with  the  tyrant's  awful  sway 
Of  power  to  wield  for  weal  or  woe 
When  once  they  say  who  is  their  foe! 

"Another  cruiser  sunk  today." 
"Down  with  the  bloody  rulers!"  say 
Men  and  women — the  cry  shall  last — 
"We're  through  with  such;  their  die  is 

cast, 

Because  we  read  lay  upon  lay, 
'Another  cruiser  sunk  today'." 


46  PEACH  POEMS 


THE  BELGIAN  BREAD  LINE 


"Belgium  is  one  long  bread  line  of  starving  men,  women 
and  children,  clamoring  for  a  single  ration  of  bread  and  soup." 
— Theo.  Waters,  secretary  of  The  Christian  Herald. 


"Soup,  bread.     O  please!"  they  said, 
"Give  back  our  husbands,  sons — our  dead, 
And  we'll  not  ask  for  soup  and  bread." 

In  Brussels  they  begged  for  soup  and  bread, 

"Give  back  our  husbands,  sons — our  dead — 

And  we'll  not  ask  for  soup  and  bread." 

In  Antwerp  they  cry  for  soup  and  bread. 
Give  back  their  husbands,  sons — their  dead — 
And  they'll  not  ask  for  soup  or  bread. 

All  Belgium  moans  for  food,  for  bread, 
"Graves  everywhere;  our  sons  are  dead; 
Give  back  our  men  and  keep  your  bread." 

O  God!  God!  who  Patriarchs  led, 
Let  men  know  Christ  who  is  not  dead, 
And  they'll  not  wail  for  soup  or  bread. 


47 
1  LIVE  FOR  THE  KING  AND  FATHERLAND" 


The  war  is  on;  the  peace  is  gone; 
We'll  live  in  hell,  while  monarchs  sell 

Soldiers  for  fatherland. 
Begin  to  sing,  let  bugles  ring, 
While  soldiers  die,  and  nations  sigh 

For  kings  and  fatherland. 

In  trenches  wet,  we  are  beset 

With  cannon's  shell  and  Sherman's  hell, 

So  soldiers  take  your  stand. 
"But  what  care  I,  if  I  must  die?" 
That's  what  we  say;  kings  have  their 
way — 

The  kings  of  fatherland. 

When  you  "cash  in"  that  God  sent  king 
Will  yell  and  cry  for  more  to  die 

For  him  and  fatherland. 
When  you  are  dead,  and  vultures  fed 
On  sons  of  men — but  pshaw,  what  then? 

It's  soldiers,  take  your  stand. 

I  go  to  fight  and  think  it's  right 
For  people  sing,  it  is  the  thing 

To  give  my  head,  my  hand. 
War  lords  at  ease  sip  wine,  eat  cheese, 
And  suck  their  pipes;  send  me  to  fight 

For  them  and  fatherland. 


48  PEACE  POEMS 

And  when  you  die  your  family  sigh — 
But  what  cares  he  for  family? 

The  king  of  fatherland. 
A  soldier  dies;  he's  burned  like  flies 
Or  rots  and  stinks,  while  the  ruler  thinks 

You'll  fight  for  fatherland. 

I'm  only  one,  a  country's  son, 
Who's  bred  to  be  of  the  soldiery; 

Ye  soldiers  take  your  stand. 
Begin  to  sing,  let  bugles  ring; 
When  shot  to  hell,  your  child  can  yell 

In  vain  to  fatherland. 

So  what  cares  he,  for  you  or  me? 
We're  only  fools  to  keep  his  rules — 

Ye  soldiers  take  your  stand — 
Be  shot  to  hell  while  demons  yell 
And  he  smirks  by  while  women  cry 

For  you  and  fatherland. 


49 
PEACE  REFORMERS 


Each  great  reform  must  have  its  men, 

Those    who    have    strength    and    mighty 
power; 

No  weakling  ever  led  the  ranks, 

When  hard  the  way  and  dark  the  hour. 

We  honor  men  and  'plaud  them,  too, 
Who  bear  the  thickest  of  the  brunt, 

The  ones  with  souls  and  courage  strong — 
Aye,  strong  enough  to  bear  the  blunt. 

To  those  who  brave  the  storm  and  stress — 
Advance  reforms  no  matter  what — 

The  world  owes  all  her  song  and  praise, 
But  sometimes  they  are  soon  forgot. 

Let  us  not  cease  to  do  our  best, 
No  matter  what  the  price  or  cost, 

When  duty  calls  or  times  demand, 
Atho  our  noble  cause  is  lost. 

It  may  be  lost  in  our  short  day, 
But  if  the  cause  be  just  and  right, 

Long  after  we  are  mouldering  dead, 
The  doubly  blind  shall  have  their  sight. 

Be  not  dismayed  who  lead  the  ranks, 
Tho  rough  and  stormy  be  the  way, 

If  ye  are  cursed  and  oft  misjudged, 
Your  cause  shall  surely  win  some  day. 


So 
BELGIUM  HAS  COVERED  HERSELF  WITH  GLORY 


Belgium  has  covered  herself  with  glory! 

But  what  about  her  men? 
No  pin  or  badge,  no  battlefield  gory 

Can  pay  for  such  losses,  when 
Her  young  and  brave  are  shot  away; 
When  harvest,  horses,  cows  and  hay 
Are  gone,  and  millions  to  be  fed. 
Say,  what  about  her  noble  dead, 

When  you  sing  the  song  of  glory? 

Germany  has  covered  herself  with  glory! 

But  what  about  her  dead? 
No  witty  reporter's  breezy  story 

Can  pay  for  damage  done  by  lead. 
Her  sons  are  dead,  her  children  moan, 
Her  widows,  wives  and  sisters  groan! 
Six  million  mouths  now  to  be  fed! 
Say,  what  about  her  loyal  dead 

When  you  make  the  plea  of  glory? 

The  Allies  have  covered  themselves  with  glory ! 

But  what  about  their  lost? 
It's  the  same  old  foolish,  dreadful  story — 

The  living  ever  pay  the  cost. 
We  bury  the  dead,  our  souls  are  fed 
On  sorrow,  "wormwood,  gall  and  lead ! 
A  nation  weeps — the  curse  of  guns! 
Say,  what  about  her  murdered  sons 

When  you  pass  the  cup  of  glory? 


RAISE  BABIES  TO  KILL  61 

That's  why  we  care,  with  best  of  fare, 

For  baby — Dave  or  Will — 
We  give  them  birth  and  rear  them  up 

For  the  army  and  to  kill. 
The  babe  we  do  our  best  to  save, 

Grows  up — our  baby  Bill — 
Grows  up  to  be  the  pride  of  home — 

The  end  is,  but  to  kill. 

So  mothers  give  ye  birth  to  babes 

And  in  your  tears  and  pain 
Do  all  you  can  to  bring  them  up 

To  manhood  to  be  slain. 
While  righting  lords,  with  their  vast 
hordes, 

Need  soldiers  at  their  will; 
Give  birth  to  babes  and  care  for  them, 

And  raise  them  just  to  kill. 

But  when  you  say,  "Ye  war  lords,  nay, 

Our  babes  are  at  our  will; 
We  give  them  birth,  we  raise  them  up 

To  live  and  not  to  kill!" 
Then  there  will  be  no  misery 

On  battle  field  or  hill, 
All  wars  will  cease,  for  you  will  say, 

"We  have  no  men  to  kill." 


62  PEACE  POEMS 


THE  CHRIST  IS  NEAR 


Two  men  fought  till  their  strength  was  gone; 
Two  men  fought  and  when  were  done 
Sore  wounds  to  bind  and  racking  pain, — 
Yet  when  they're  well  they'll  fight  again. 
The  cry  went  up,  "The  Christ  is  near." 
They  didn't  know.    They  did  not  hear. 

Two  brothers  hated  with  a  vim 

Which  soiled  their  souls,  did  such  a  sin; 

When  friends  begged  them  to  be  at  rest 

They  kept  it  up  with  bitter  zest. 

The  cry  went  up,  "The  Christ  is  near." 

They  didn't  know.    Hate  said,  "Not  here." 

Two  men  envied  the  other's  fame; 
They  sought  revenge — it  never  came — 
But  all  the  days  of  all  their  life 
Were  spent  in  bitter,  wasted  strife. 
The  cry  went  up,  "The  Christ  is  near." 
The  jealous  spirit  said,  "Not  here." 


THE  CHRIST  IS  NEAR  63 

The  war  lords  thought  on  lust  and  war; 
They  thought  and  thought  on  lust  galore 
Until  the  earth  was  red  with  blood. 
We  cry,  "Now  stop  this  human  flood!" 
The  cry  goes  up,  "The  Christ  is  near." 
Now  look,  O  world,  and  see  him  here. 

At  last  'tis  death  to  lust  and  war; 
For  we'll  have  hate  and  lust  no  more, 
At  last  man  comes  into  his  own 
And  ceases  hate  and  war,  for  home. 
So  when  we  cry,  "The  Christ  is  near." 
We'll  know  and  see  and  feel  him  here. 


64  PEACE  POEMS 


SOUL  LANGUAGE 


A  million  souls  on  the  way  to  heaven, 
Cramming  homeward  thru  the  sky; 

Here  on  earth  they  fought  each  other, 
But  one  are  they  when  they  come  to  die. 

Here  the  nations  fight  and  slaughter, 

See  the  murdered  soldiers  lie! 
Here  they  hate  (this  racial  instinct) 

But  one  are  they  when  they  come  to  die. 

Souls  and  spirits  flying  homeward, 

Arm  in  arm  to  join  on  high, 
Souls  of  men  and  soldiers  singing — 

All  are   one  when  they  come  to  die. 


65 


HER  BOY  AND  WAR 


\ 


Twenty  years  ago  today 

My  baby  came  to  earth. 
No  heart  it  seemed  was  better  blest 

When  I  gave  my  laddie  birth. 
Soon  he  could  talk,  O  yes  'twas  soon, 

"Da-da"  and  "Mama,"  too; 
And  then  what  happy  romps  we  had — 

Life's  joys  at  best  are  few. 

Soon  he  could  walk — for  mind  you  well — 

The  time^sped  quickly  past, 
And  first  we  knew  our  baby  boy 

Had  gone  to  school  at  last. 
From  school,  our  boy,  our  little  lad, 

Came  romping  into  home 
And  told  of  all  the  sport  and  fun — 

Romped  out,  left  me  alone. 

Alone?    Ah  yes,  but  he  was  here. 

I  knew  he  would  return, 
That  night  would  find  him  safe  at  home 

With  all  his  lessons  learned. 
Swiftly  the  years — O  those  swift  years — 

Sped  by;  he  was.a,man, 
Ah  yes!  a  man — how  proud  he  was! 

Swiftly  the  seasons  ran. 


66  PEACE  POEMS 

Then  like  a  flash  the  bugles  called ; 

My  son,  my  little  boy 
To  serve  his  native  land  you  see, 

Volunteered  with  childish  joy. 
I  thought  my  heart  would  break  right 
there, 

When  he,  all  spick  and  span, 
Stood  as  a  soldier  in  the  ranks — 

My  boy  so  soon  a  man. 

He  waved  goodby — my  son  was  gone! 

Should  I  not  see  him  more? 
He  smiled  to  me,  then  marched  away; 

He  had  gone,  my  boy,  to  war; 
The  time — O,  what  an  anxious  time — 

Sped  on  and  letters  came; 
But  all  the  while  there  was  a  void 

I  never  could  explain. 

It  semed  as  though  to  death  I  went 

Each  time  a  message  came; 
My  baby  boy,  my  pride  and  joy, 

Was  now  my  care  and  pain. 
Then  letters  missed — no  message  came- 

I  knew — God,  could  it  be! 
I  dared  not  think;  I  only  prayed 

And  asked  for  light  to  see. 

Then  came  a  friend — there  up  the  lane- 

With  head  bent  low  and  sad; 
I  saw  at  once  the  worst  was  nigh, 

aWhat  news  of  John,  my  lad?" 
My  baby  boy,  my  little  lad, 

The  baby  I  love,  my  son ! 
I  never  dreamed  I  gave  you  life 

To  be  killed  by  sword  or  gun ! 


HER  BOY  AND  WAR  67 

We'll  never  meet  again  on  earth! 

But  still  I  must  be  calm! 
They  burned  him  on  a  soldier's  pyre — 

The  mortal  end  of  John! 
I  offered  up  my  life  for  him; 

I  nourished  him  with  care; 
I  love  as  only  a  mother  can; 

The  end — a  furnace  there ! 

I  sit  alone  and  wonder  why 

We  can't  our  troubles  mend 
Without  this  cruel  unholy  war 

That  kills  our  sons,  our  men! 
Why  must  we  women  give  our  sons 

To  fight  for  ruling  men 
Who  could,  if  they  but  wanted  to, 

Adjust  affairs  by  pen? 

I  pray  my  God  to  give  me  strength 

To  forgive  and  not  to  curse 
The  ones  who  tore  my  boy  away; 

And  brought  about  the  worst. 
I  pray  for  more  than  just  for  me; 

I'll  join  my  martyred  ones; 
"O  God,  let  war  soon  pass  away 

So  mothers  can  keep  their  sons." 


68  PEACE  POEMS 


WHEN  WILL  THE  SOLDIERS  STRIKE  ? 


There's  be  no  war  when  men  won't  fight. 

When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 
If  rulers  fuss  and  disagree,  and  cannot 

see  the  right, 
And  set  they  are  on  forcing  men  to  see 

that  black  is  white; 
Why  don't  we  let  them  fight  it  out? 
Let  them  go  to  it  bout  for  bout, 
And  fight  and  slay  and  curse  and  shout. 

When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 

There'll  be  no  war  when  men  won't  fight. 

When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 
They  have  their  homes  and   families 

which  are  their  soul's  delight, 
Their  children  there  and  home  so  sweet 

and  everything  so  bright; 
There's  May  to  meet  you  with  a  coo, 
And  say  "Da-da"  and  "Is  dat  oo?" 
A  wife  to  greet  and  fond  adieu. 

When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 


WHEN  WILL  THE  SOLDIERS  STRIKE?     69 

There'll  be  no  war  when  men  won't  fight. 

When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 
If  rulers  fuss  and  disagree,  and  cannot 

see  the  right, 
And  set  they  are  on  forcing  men  to  see 

that  black  is  white, 

Why  don't  we  let  THEM  fight  it  out? 
Let  them  go  to  it,  bout  for  bout, 
And  fight  and  slay  and  curse  and  shout. 
When  will  the  soldiers  strike? 


70  PEACE  POEMS 


TO  CANADA 


Celebrating  the  one  hundred  years  of  peace 
between  England  and  the  United  States. 


In  time  of  peace,  prepare  for  peace, 

Eliminate  all  war; 
For  if  on  peace  we  have  a  lease, 

We  need  but  courts  and  bar. 


Our  Uncle  Sam,  in  time  of  peace, 

And  Canada  so  fair 
Made  peace  the  slogan  (with  what  ease!), 

A  hundred  years  so  rare. 

What  we  have  done  to  keep  the  peace, 

All  nations  too  can  do! 
Now  all  the  world  can  make  war  cease 

As  Uncle  Sam  and  you. 

O  may  the  world  then  promenade 

In  such  a  life  long  lease! 
Long  may  our  sister  Canada 

And  Uncle  Sam  have  peace! 


THE  WAR  LORDS'  JUDGMENT 


Oh,  the  woeful,  stinging  memory  when  they  go  to  the 

judgment  seat! 
All  the  cries  and  all  the  misery,  all  the  groans  and  tears 

to  meet! 

Anguish  of  a  hell-cursed  earth,  with  its  fright  and  with 

its  care, 
Coming  to  their  ears  at  judgment — God!  it's  more  than 

they  can  bear! 

See  a  trillion  eyes  of  murder,  see  the  bleeding,  mangled 

feet! 
With  their  fierce,  condemning  anguish,  as  they  near  the 

Judgment  Seat! 

See  the  clutching,  skinny  fingers,  pointing  in  a  sea  of 

scorn, 
Fingers  of  a  billion  sufferers  pointing  on  that  judment 

morn! 

Oh  the  horrors  of  the  war  lord,  when  he  goes  to  the 

Judgment  Bar! 
All  the  cries  of  base  infernos  ringing  forth,  both  near 

and  far 

Will  be  tame  to  bellowing  misery,  from  the  throats  of 

trillions  dead: 
"Curses  on  thee,  misery  maker,  you  who  have  a  heart 

of  lead." 

Cryings,  damnings,  cursings,  screechings,  seething,  boil 
ing,  hissing  hell, 

Will  resound  to  meet  the  war  lords,  at  the  toll  of  the 
Judgment  Bell. 


72  PEACE  POEMS 

DEPARTING  GLORY 


"The  glory  of  war  is  gone;    the  war  has  no 
defenders." — David  Starr  Jordan. 


Yes,  war  has  no  defenders, 

The  glory  of  war  is  gone; 
Let's  deal  with  one  another 

Without  the  war-knell's  gong. 

The  bugle's  screech  and  martial  air, 
Brass  buttons  and  marching  tread, 

Epaulets  and  fancy  braid- 
Let's  think  of  these  as  dead. 

Brute  force  is  cruel — it's  hellish — 

And  so  is  soldiers'  tread; 
Likewise  the  camps  and  warship — 

Let's  think  of  these  as  dead. 

The  honor  won  by  killing  men 
Is  false — let  that  be  said — 

And  emphasize  man's  service  now, 
And  think  of  war  as  dead. 

For  life  is  worth  far  more  than  hate; 

"  Glory"  that  conies  with  lead 
Is  far  too  costly  in  these  days — 

Let's  think  of  war  as  dead. 

Yea,  war  has  no  defenders, 
The  "glory"  of  war  is  past; 

This  be  our  everlasting  song, 
While  man  and  earth  shall  last. 


PEACE  POEMS  73 


WOMEN  ON  THE  WARPATH 


The   women  have  formed  a   "Peace  Party1'   with 
which  to  protest  against  war. — News  item. 


Clar   th'   thrack   ther'   ye   wahr   lards   and 
rhulers ; 

The  wimen  hav'  entered  the  fray; 
They  now  hav'  th'  "Wimen's  Pace  Party"; 

To  th'  waryers  and  lards,  it's  away! 

The  wimen  hav'  drawn  a  petishon, 
An'  emfattically  state  an'  dayclar: 

They  are  shtandin'  f r  pace  an'  f'r  justice, 
Without  wahr  craze  an'  its  scar'r. 

So  hike  r-right  alowng  ye  wahr  lards 
An'  singers  iv  wahrs,  gr-rat  an'  sthrong; 

Th'  wimen  hav  taken  th'  cudg-gel 
To  pace  fully  sittle  awl  wrong. 

When  she  takes  holt  iv  the  wahr  handle, 
An'  swings  an'  dayclars  up  an'  down 

That  wahr  is  a  rellick  iv  past  ages, 
Ye'd  betther  go  back  an'  sit  down. 

F'r  she  is  th'  sthronger,  is  wimen; 

On  wahr  she's  bin  layin'  low, 
She's  now  come  to  her  own,  an'  ye  bit  ye 

Th'  wahr  an'  its  hell  will  soon  go. 


74 


So  throt  r-right  alowng,  Mishter  wahr  lard, 
Say  good  by'  if  ye  think  he  hav'  time; 

Do  not  linger  an'  dally  too  lowng  sir 
F'r  she's  apt  to  kick  yer're  behind. 

Go  back  me  lard,  and  sit  down  sir, 

Sit  down  so  hard  an'  so  fast 
That  ye'll  not  come  to  life  agin  sir 

She's  got  ye  on  th'  run  sir,  at  last. 

O,  Hiven!  on  wahr  lards  hav'  mersay, 
An'  angils  protect  an'  give  help! 

It's  afther  th'  wahr  divils  she's  goin' 

An'    whin    SHE    comes    back    they'll    be 
scalpted. 


We  are  all  brothers — why  not 
show  it? 


75 


HAS  CHRISTIANITY  FAILED? 


You  say  Christianity  has  failed! 

But  friend,  it  has  never  been  tried. 
We  have  talked,  and  yea  we  have  prayed, 

But  many's  the  time  we  have  lied. 
We  have  said  we  love  as  God  loves — 

Our  friends  as  well  as  our  foes; 
Like  sinners  in  the  time  of  Christ 

He  could  scathe  us  too  with  his  "woes". 

We  have  claimed  to  be  Christian  and  kind, 

But  in  part,  have  we  lived  the  truth; 
Yes,  only  in  part,  O  ye  men, 

Yea,  rather  like  heathens,  forsooth. 
We  say  we  are  Christian,  and  then 

We  live  without  Christ;  He  is  veiled; 
So  we  fail  in  our  acts  and  our  deeds, 

Then  say  'tis  Christ  who  has  failed. 

Why  say  Christianity  has  failed, 

When  it  has  never  been  tried? 
Why  call  the  Master  a  failure 

When  we've  put  His  teachings  aside? 
When  we  live  like  unto  Christ 

Our  religion  is  Christ  and  not  creeds, 
We  shall  see  no  failure  like  war 

To  blot  the  record  of  deeds. 


76  PEACE  POEMS 

'Tis  the  lack  of  Christ  which  has  failed, 

Not  Christ  of  Calvary's  cross; 
'Tis  the  lack  of  Christian  instruction 

That  records  today  our  great  loss. 
'Tis  not  the  Christ  who  has  failed, 

Nay,  brother,  not  Christ  and  His  way, 
'Tis  the  spirit  of  mortals  instead 

Which  has  held  mankind  in  its  sway. 

When  Christ  is  lived  thru  and  thru, 

No  war  can  our  record  disgrace, 
For  Christ  is  the  one  Prince  of  Peace, 

He  then  will  have  the  first  place. 
So  let  us  not  blame  this  loved  One, 

The  Christ,  who  loves  every  land; 
But  rather,  O  brother,  blame  someone 

Who  mistaught  this  Lover  of  Man. 


77 


MY  PLEDGE 


I  here  desire  to  give  my  pledge 
To  do  my  best  for  peace; 

So  help  me,  God,  to  do  my  part 
To  make  all  wars  to  cease. 


78  PEACE  POEMS 


BENEDICTION 


O  God  of  Heaven — of  man  and  beast — 
Teach  me,  O  Lord,  to  see  the  Light, 

And  sound  the  knell  from  west  to  east 
To  have  no  war  no  sword  or  fight. 

O  God,  should  I  not  do  my  share 

In  this  great  day  of  sword  and  hate 

To  bring  about  a  world  wide  peace — 
Then  God  forgive  this  sin  so  great. 


My  Daughter, 
My  Little  Maxine 


8i 


MY  DAUGHTER,  MY  LITTLE  MAXINE 


There  are  days  that  are  dark  and  gloomy; 

There  are  times  when  the  sun  is  not  seen; 
But  there's  one  who  can  always  inspire  me, 

And  that's  my  daughter,  Maxine. 

Should  I  think  life's  work  is  a  failure 
And  results  are  not  what  I  ween, 

There  conies  to  my  rescue  a  smiler, 
And  that's  my  daughter,  Maxine. 

Have  things  gone  wrong?    Miscarried? 

Are  times  out  of  joint?    Not  a  beam 
Of  sunshine  to  light  the  dark  roadway? 

Then  I  hear  my  daughter,  Maxine 

Creep  up  to  my  chair — O  the  darling!  — 
And  put  her  sweet  face  close  to  mine 

And  whisper,  "Just  never  mind,  papa, 
You're  the  best;  you're  simply  just  fine." 

If  it's  preacher,  writer  or  father, 

It's  the  same  to  my  daughter  so  keen; 

No  troubles,  no  sorrows,  nor  worries 
Shake  the  faith  of  daughter  Maxine. 

Do  friends  misunderstand  and  shun  me? 

Are  critics  severe  and  show  spleen? 
Do  people  misjudge  and  condemn  me? 

It  matters  not  to  Maxine. 


82    MY  DAUGHTER,  MY  LITTLE  MAXINE 

She  has  faith  and  pride  in  her  father; 

She  has  love  and  caresses,  all  seen; 
She  has  confidence  strong  as  Gibraltar — 

My  daughter,  my  little  Maxine. 

Though  enemies  strive  to  down  me; 

Though  foes  my  character  screen; 
I  know  there's  one  believes  in  me — 

And  that's  my  darling,  Maxine. 


Inspirational 
Poems 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  MAN 


The  successful  man  is  always  kicked,  he's  kicked  all 
over  town; 

No  matter  what  his  "line"  may  be,  they'll  kick  him 
all  around. 

The  man  who  wins  is  always  kicked,  they  kick  him 
black  and  blue; 

He's  thumped  with  "mud"  and  rotten  egged,  gets  num 
ber  fourteen  shoe. 

Because  he's  always  on  the  job;  not  lazy  at  his  work, 
Because  he  plods  and  plugs  away,  while  other  men 

may  shirk, 
Because  he  puts  more  in  his  work  and  gets  more  in 

return, 
And  stirs  things  up  and  gets  things  done,  he's  kicked 

at  every  turn. 

The  men  who  set  the  world  ahead,  are  kicked  all  over 

town ; 

They  lift  us  to  a  higher  plane  but  get  kicked  all  around; 
No  matter,  sir,  what  lives  they  save,  no  matter  what 

they  give, 
If  they  do  more  than  other  men,  they're  punctured  like 

a  sieve. 


86  INSPIRA  TIONA I  POEMS 

If  you're  not  kicked,  I  wonder  now  if  you  have  lost 

your  hope? 
Do  you  play  fair  and  do  your  best,  or  sulk  and  grunt 

and  mope? 
If  you're  not  kicked,  you  won't  rise  far;  so  man,  get 

in  the  game, 
And  let  them  kick  you  all  around — kick  hard  until 

they're  lame! 

You  do  your  work  and  play  your  game — play  fair  and 

hard  all  day; 
And  let  the  townsmen  wag  their  tongues,  the  gossips 

have  their  say, 
And  never  mind  their  cutting  ways,  nor  see  that  surly 

frown ; 
On  the  homestretch  you'll  beat'  em  all — although  you're 

kicked  around. 


87 
THERE'S  NO  SUCH  THING  AS  FAILURE 


There's  no  9^k  thing  as  failure 
To  him  whonfchts  when  down ; 

For  just  as  light  comes  after  night, 
Success  will  failure  crown. 

There's  no  such  thing  as  failure 
To  those  who  mean  to  stand.        9 

Each  failure  hard — he's  turned  the  card 
Success,  and  won  the  hand. 

They  only  think  it's  failure, 

And  that's  why  they've  not  won; 

If  they'd  think  right,  keep  at  the  fight, 
Success  would  surely  come. 

There's  no  such  thing  as  failure; 

Repeat  this  every  day — 
"I'm  bound  to  win,  thru  thick  or  thin, 

Success  is  mine,  I  say." 

There's  no  such  thing  as  failure 

Unless  you  want  it  so; 
With  steady  nerve,  you  never  swerve, 

Success  is  sure,  tho  slow. 

There's  no  such  thing  as  failure! 

Repeat,  "I'm  bound  to  win," 
Do  not  complain ;  affirm  again, 

"Success,  doth  now  begin." 

There's  no  such  thing  as  failure! 

Push  on  and  make  it  flee. 
God  helps  the  man  who  says,  "I  can. 

Success  is  meant  for  me." 


88  INSPIRA  TIONAL  POEMS 


PLEASE  DON'T  STOP  KICKIN'  MY  NAME  AROUND 


Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 

You  mean  by  that  to  keep  me  down — 

The  harder  I'm  kicked,  the  better  I'll  bound; 

I'll  always  smile  and  never  frown. 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 
Every  knock  you  give,  your  every  sound 
Makes  me  arise  with  greater  bound; 
Boosts  me  way  up  until  I'm  found. 
Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 
It  sends  me  up  and  not  far  down ; 
Your  every  kick  makes  me  rebound; 
You  boost  me  higher,  round  by  round. 
Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 
"Each  knock's   a   boost" — that's   long   been 

found — 

So  hammer  away,  altho  you're  bound 
To  kill  me  off  I'm  still  around. 
Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 


Please  Don't  Stop  Kickin'  My  Name  Around     89 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 
I'm  higher  today  by  knockers  bound 
To  kill  me  off,  but  still  I'm  sound. 
So  knock  and  curse;  defame  and  pound. 
Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 

Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 
Call  me  a  fool,  blockhead  or  clown; 
Pinhead  or  goose,  base  cur  or  hound; 
Use  vilest  words  that  can  be  found. 
Please  don't  stop  kickin'  my  name  around. 


90  INSPIRA  TIONAL  POEMS 


DON'T  LOSE  YOUR  GOAT 


Jim  Casey  had  two  balls;  two  strikes;  as  he  stood  up  to 

bat. 
"Ball  three"  was  called;   another  came — when,  holy 

smoke!  what's  that? 
He  soaked  a  ball  clean  over  third,  beyond  the  fence 

and  moat, 

And  scored  a  straight  home  run  because  he  didn't  lose 
his  goat. 

"The  fight  is  on,"  my  youthful  friend;   the  one  who 

wins  the  game 
Is  the  chap  you  meet  who  has  his  nerve  and  ever  is 

the  same. 
You'll  get  nick-named;  called  everything  from  "kid" 

to  that  "old  soak," 
But  never  mind,  just  plug  along  and  do  not  lose  your 

goat. 

You'll  make  mistakes  a-plenty,  boy,  but  never  you 

mind  that 
So  long  as  you  don't  lose  your  grip,  you're  bound  to 

win,  by  cat! 
O  you  can  lose  most  anything,  from  house  and  lot  to 

boat, 
So  long  as  you  don't  lose  your  nerve  or  let  'em  get  your 

goat. 


DON'T  LOSE  YOUR  GO  A  T  91 

So  many  men  would  seek  your  fall  from  lies  to  drinking 

beer; 
But  pay  no  heed,  all  that  you  need  is  "grip  and 

persevere!" 
Give  up  you  bed;  drink  gall  and  lead;  and  let  'em  take 

your  coat; 
If  you're  to  win,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  let  'em  get 

your  goat. 

There's  rich  and  poor;  there's  strong  and  great;  there 

are  all  kinds  of  men 
Who'll  lay  their  traps  and  try  to  see  you  "beat  to  first," 

but  then 
So  long  as  you  have  got  your  nerve;  yes,  put  your 

clothes  in  "soak" — 
Fact,  you  can  part  with  anything  if  they  don't  get 

your  goat. 


I  often  make  mistakes — can  you 
say  as  much? 


92  INSPIRA TIONAL  POEMS 


I  WILL 


I  will,  I  can,  I  will! 

Says  he  who  means  to  win. 

For  there's  no  power  this  side  of  death 

Can  shut  and  keep  him  in. 

I  will,  I  can,  I  will! 

Is  the  slogan  that  never  fails. 

And  there's  no  power  on  land  or  sea 

To  keep  down  that  man's  sails. 

I  will,  I  can,  I  will! 
Has  turned  the  world  around 
And  saved  a  people  many  times 
When  others  thought  them,  down. 

I  will,  I  can,  I  will! 

Obstacles  I'll  defy! 

For  there's  no  power  can  beat  a  man 

Who  never  will  say,  "die." 


93 


NEVER  MIND  THE  KNOCKER 


"  'Twas  a  hard  knock,  I  got  today, 

It  nearly  laid  me  low, 
I'll  not  regain  the  blow  for  aye, 

Why  is  the  world  made  so?" 

Just  wait  a  little,  brother  man, 

And  see  what  end  this  blow 
Will  have  in  store  for  you.     My  land! 

Some  things  come  very  slow. 

In  twenty  years  from  this  sore  whack 
You'll  smile,  though  now  you're  barred; 

You'll  see  your  "bread"  is  coming  back; 
You'll  be  on  top,  though  scarred. 

These  whacks  must  come  to  try  your  vim, 

To  exercise  your  grit, 
To  teach  that  all  who  live  to  win, 

Must  not  "give  up  the  ship." 

So  take  your  whacks  with  all  good  grace, 

And  never  frown  or  kick; 
Just  let  the  world  see  your  stern  face 

That  will  not  wince  one  whit. 

The  world  can't  knock  you  all  around, 

And  keep  it  up  for  aye, 
For  if  you  plug  and  work  and  pound 

The  knocks  will  die  away. 


94  1NSP1RA  TIONA I  POEMS 

But  if  they  don't,  they  won't  hurt  you, 

And  both  are  just  the  same, 
So  work  away,  ne'er  say  adieu ; 

Just  play  your  fighting  game. 

Your  enemies,  and  knockers,  too, 

Admire  a  man  with  pluck; 
So  never  mind,  though  black  and  blue, 

You'll  win  in  spite  of  "luck." 

Though  black  and  blue  from  knockers,  Sam, 

You  won't  feel  hurt  one  bit 
If  you  keep  on  and  be  the  man 

Who  won't  stay  down,  though  hit. 


95 


NEVER  SAY  DIE 


Have  you  done  all  you  could  and  been  much  criticized? 

Have  you  played  the  world  fair  and  then  lost? 
Have  you  worked  like  a  trooper  and  seemed  hypnotized 

So  that  nothing  turned  out  but  the  cost 

And  that  cost  charged  to  you  when  you'd  nothing  to 
pay? 

Have  you  ever  endured  such  a  plight? 
Were  you  broke  and  not  able  to  turn  any  way? 

Have  you  wanted  to  give  up  the  fight? 

Have  you  done  all  you  could?    Been  cuffed  all  about? 

Have  you  played  like  a  man  and  gone  down? 
Have  you  made  your  last  effort  and  sparred  your  last 
bout? 

Have  you  felt  like  not  "sticking  around?" 

Have  you  failed  once  or  often;   been  called  a  poor 
fool? 

Have  you  tried  to  keep  straight  and  look  game? 
Have  you  said,  "  'Tis  the  end,  Life's  too  hard  a  school, 

I  will  quit,  for  success  never  came"? 


96  INSPIRA  TIONA I  POEMS 

Then  take  heart,  brother  mine,  I  have  felt  this  queer 
pain; 

I  have  failed — seen  everything  gone; 
I  have  often  said,  "Nay,  I  will  not  try  again" — 

That's  just  the  safe  time  to  hang  on! 

For  a  short  way   ahead,   when   you've    failed   many 
times; 

There's  success  just  awaiting  for  you; 
If  you  never  give  up,  hang  tight  to  the  lines, 

Then  success,  not  defeat  is  your  due. 

O  pray,  never  say  "die,"  make  an  effort  once  more! 

Never  say  that  your  time  is  past  due; 
Just  you  try  again,  with  that  spirit  of  yore, 

For  success  is  a-coming  to  you! 


97 
LIFE'S  GETHSEMANE 


Each  life  hath  it's  Gethsemane! 

No  doubt  'tis  better  so, 
Tho  when  our  souls  sweat  drops  of  blood, 

We'd  rather  pray,  "O  no." 

But  when  this  dark  Gethsemane 

And  others,  have  been  won, 
We'll  reach  the  Master's  attitude: 

"Not  mine  but  Thine  be  done." 

Be  strong  in  your  Gethsemane; 

Be  like  our  Lord  of  old; 
For  drops  of  blood  may  mean  today 

Your  strength  increased  ten  fold. 

For  when  each  dark  Gethsemane 

Has  past  long  since  away; 
We  see  that  it  was  better  far, 

To  sweat  as  Christ,  that  day. 

Each  life  hath  its  Gethsemane 

If  not  at  first,  at  last; 
So  cultivate  your  soul's  repose; 

You're  stronger  when  it's  past. 

So  God,  when  our  Gethsemane 

Is  making  us  sweat  blood, 
Give  us  the  spirit  the  Master  had 

To  endure  the  trouble's  flood! 


98  INSPIRA  TIONA  L  POEMS 


THE  MOTHER  HEART 


A  woman  who  raises  children — 
Children  who're  not  her  own — 

Is  one  of  God's  great  workers. 
Praise  her  from  pillar  to  dome ! 

A  woman  who  shelters  children — 

Some  without  legal  name — 
Is  the  noblest  of  Christ's  workers. 

Lift  us  to  a  higher  plane! 

God  send  thy  sweet  benediction 
On  those  who  do  their  part 

In  caring  for  outcast  children. 

Strengthen  such  courage  and  heart! 

May  we  learn  this  from  such  courage — 
Though  hard  may  be  the  way — 

Let  us  see  and  do  our  duty, 

No  matter  what  others  may  say. 


99 


YOU  CAN'T  KEEP  A  GOOD  MAN  DOWN 


You  cannot  keep  a  good  man  down, 

He'll  rise  in  spite  of  all; 
He  may  be  beaten  into  pulp 

He'll  rise  from  every  fall. 

A  good  strong  man  with  pluck  and  grit 
Each  time  on  top  will  come, 

Tho  gods  and  man  contrive  to  beat 
And  keep  him  out  of  plumb. 

You  may  as  well  stem  back  the  tide, 
And  make  the  moon  stand  still 

As  try  to  keep  a  good  man  down — 
A  man  with  force  and  will. 


i  oo  INSPIRA  TIONA I  POEMS 


THE  MAN  WHO  COMES  BACK 


Oh,  don't  be  a  quitter,  we  disdain  such  a  man, 
Though  we  have  been  guilty  ourselves; 

We've  oft  turned  our  backs  from  life's  sordid  whacks — 
Let  the  past  be  put  on  the  shelves. 

Yes,  we  have  been  quitters  for  many  a  day; 

Ashamed,  sneaked  back  to  the  ranks; 
We  quit  and  returned — all  bridges  we  burned; 

And  received  men's  comments  and  thanks. 

Oh,  don't  be  a  quitter  who  never  comes  back; 

Tho  defeated  and  beaten  today, 
Don't  throw  up  the  sponge;   just  you  again  lunge 

Head- foremost  to  the  thick  of  the  fray. 

If  you  are  a  quitter — the  one  who  comes  back — 

You're  in  good  company; 
For  many  a  man  in  this  glorious  land 

Has  quit,  yet  claims  victory. 

No  longer  a  quitter — when  you  try,  try  again — 

You  stop  and  then  go  ahead; 
So  take  heart  again;  our  God  will  sure  send 

Success  before  you  are  dead. 


101 


THE  WAY  TO  WIN 


When  your  hat  is  "in  the  ring," 

Don't  give  up  the  fight. 
Jump  right  in.  begin  to  sing, 

Sing  with  all  your  might. 
Don't  get  sour,  let  each  hour 

See  you  work  and  fight. 
You  can't  sing?    Do  the  next  thing, 

Smile,  from  left  to  right. 
Smile  and  fight,  fight  and  sing; 

Fight  with  all  your  might. 
When  your  hat  is  in  the  ring, 

Don't  give  up  the  fight. 

Are  you  beat?    That's  no  defeat! 

Don't  give  up  the  fight. 
"Down  and  out?"  O  pshaw!  Just  shout; 

On  your  job,  then  light. 
Pound  and  thump;  yes,  dig  and  jump, 

Don't  give  up  the  fight. 
No  defeat!    You've  never  beat 

When  you're  in  the  right. 
Don't  you  stop,  your  vim  don't  drop, 

Plug  with  all  your  might. 
Sour  awhile?    Then  start  to  smile, 

Jump  right  in,  begin  to  sing. 
Smile — keep  up  the  fight. 


1 02  INSPIRA  TIONA  L  POEMS 

If  your  hat's  not  in  the  ring, 

Throw  it  there  and  fight. 
Some  have  won,  but  when  begun 

They  were  in  a  plight. 
Buckle  in,  keep  up  your  grin, 

Make  your  troubles  hike. 
Smile  and  grin,  for  grit  and  vim 

Win  in  any  fight. 
Don't  you  quit,  and  don't  you  sit 

Till  all  are  on  the  flight. 
Throw  you  hat  into  the  ring, 

Throw  it  there  and  fight. 

Grip  your  nerve,  never  swerve, 

When  you're  in  the  fight. 
Grit  your  teeth,  for  underneath 

Gold  is  out  of  sight — 
Gold  and  fame  in  this  big  game. 

Just  keep  up  the  fight. 
Never  mind  if  man's  unkind, 

You'll  get  out  all  right. 
Failed  today?     That's  nothing,  say 

Just  keep  up  the  fight 
You  will  see  your  failures  flee — 

Flee  clear  out  of  sight. 
Keep  your  hat  there  in  the  ring! 

Don't  give  up  the  fight! 


Difficulties,  troubles  and  sorrows  make 
weak  men  cringe;  but  brave  men  strong. 


103 


WHERE  THERE'S  A  WILL  THERE'S  A  WAY" 


"Where  there's  a  will,  there  is  a  way!" 

Never  give  up  the  ship; 
There's  land  ahead  and  "ivory  bed" 

To  each  stiff  upper  lip. 

You  may  not  see  which  way  to  turn, 

But  still  there  is  a  way. 
Where's  there's  a  will — keep  at  it  still — 

You'll  reap  success  some  day. 

If  you  can't  see,  still  there's  a  way; 

A  way  with  every  will; 
You  may  not  know  which  way  to  go, 

But  you  will  climb  the  hill. 

Don't  waver,  man,  there  is  a  way 

If  you  but  have  the  will; 
So  plug  along,  with  heart  and  song, 

Success  comes  but  by  drill. 


1 04  INSPIRA  TIONA  L  POEMS 

THE  MAN  WHO'S  AFRAID  OF  THE  CARS 


Have  you  met  such  a  man,  who's  "afraid  of 
the  cars?" 

Afraid  of  his  shadow  and  men? 

He  has  no  back-bone  and  only  one  tone — 
"I'm  afraid,  I'm  afraid  of  the  cars." 

There's  no  room  on  this  earth,  there's  no 

room  up  on  Mars, 

For  the  man  who's  afraid  of  life's  game; 
No  room  anywhere  in  hallway  or  stair 
For  the  man  who's  "afraid  of  the  cars." 

God  never  made  man  to  be  afraid  of  the  cars! 

That  making's  ours — there's  no  doubting 
that— 

So  determine  to  stand  on  sea  or  on  land 
Like  a  man  not  "afraid  of  the  cars." 

The  world  it  will  laud  you,  though  you're  cov 
ered  with  scars 

From  the  battle  of  life,  when  you  win; 

So  tackle  the  game,  every  day  be  the  same 
And  don't  be  "afraid  of  the  cars." 

So  it's  right  about  face!    Not  afraid  of  the 

cars ! 

Brace  up,  meet  the  world  like  a  man. 
Things  are  coming  your  way,  stay  so  every 

day, 
When  a  man's  not  "afraid  of  the  cars." 


HANDICAPPED  FOR  LIFE 


I  may  have  many  handicaps; 

111  health,  poor  eyes  and  lame; 
Though  I  have    drawn    a    card    that's 
marked, 

I  never  will  complain. 

I  may  think  God's  mistreated  me, 
But  won't  think  so  for  long; 

Though  other  men  have  better  leads, 
I'll  keep  chuck  full  of  song. 

While  others  droop  and  give  it  up 

And  say  "I  never  can ! " 
Though  I'm  bound  down  at  every  turn 

I'll  play  the  game  a  man. 

And  while  I  work  against  all  odds, 
From  me  there'll  be  no  whine; 

I'll  get  my  share  of  fun  from  work; 
Life's  nectar,  all  is  mine. 


Social  Poems 
and  Others 


SOCIAL  POEMS  log 


"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week! " 

She  buys  her  own  food,  her  clothes,  and  pays  rent. 
She  pays  car  fare,  laundry — no  meat — 

When  pay  day  comes  around,  for  herself  not  a  cent! 
For  she  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week. 

"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week!" 

One  dollar  for  clothes  and  two  for  room  rent, 
(A  "hole  in  the  wall"  for  a  room,  how  sleek  (?)) 

When  pay  day  comes  round  for  herself  not  a  cent! 
For  she  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week. 

"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week! " 

Thirty  cents  for  car  fare;  her  back  is  'most  bent 
Walking  to  work  and  standing  till  weak. 

When  pay  day  comes  round  for  herself  not  a  cent! 
For  she  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week. 

"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week!" 

So  hungry  and  cold,  so  friendless  and  lone ! 

She  gets  her  own  breakfast — the  coffee  's  so  cheap— 
You  never  can  guess  in  wealth's  happy  zone 

The  horror!     Six  dollars  a  week! 

"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week!" 

A  sandwich  for  lunch,  and  supper  she  eats 
In  a  down-town  joint  where  everything's  cheap, 

Tablecloths  dirty,  grease  on  the  seats — 
For  she  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week. 


no  SOCIAL  POEMS 

"She  lives  on  six  dollars  a  week!" 

So  slick  sporting  men — those  damnable  curs — 
Offer  her  ease  and  her  ruin  they  seek 

'Till  weak  and  discouraged  (joy  is  not  hers) 
She  yields  on  six  dollars  a  week. 

She  lived  on  six  dollars  a  week. 

Now  the  tables  have  turned,  but  soon  O  God! 
She  is  weary,  heartbroken,  sad  and  so  weak 

In  anguish  she  prays  to  be  under  the  sod! 
And  forget  her  six  dollars  a  week. 

Does  anyone  wonder  the  reason  why 

She  lost  in  the  struggle — tired  and  so  weak! 

Who  can  condemn  her?    What  heart  would  not  sigh 
To  think  of  the  fight,  to  live  and  keep  meek 

On  only  six  dollars  a  week? 


Love  in  the  heart  and  on  the  tongue 
driveth  away  Satan — also  enemies,  which 


is  the  same 


Ill 
WOMEN'S  SUFFRAGE 


BEATEN  BUT  NOT  DEFEATED 

"The  house  of  Representatives  tonight  by  a  vote 
of  204  to  174  refused  to  submit  to  the  states  the 
amendment  to  the  federal  constitution  to  enfran 
chise  women." — News  item,  January  12th,  1915. 


Have  you  heard  all  about  it?  Sh'  do  not 
shout  it;  though  soon  'twill  cover  creation. 
The  U.  S.  lawmakers  put  women  below 
bakers,  and  it's  up  to  the  "states" — not  the 
nation — to  let  women  vote.  They  rank  with 
the  goat  or  nigger  or  immigrant  lowly — but 
that  does  not  say,  they  will  stop  from  today 
and  not  push  their  fight,  which  is  holy. 
Though  turned  down  today,  tomorrow  the 
same,  yet  they  will  keep  up  their  pace,  till 
all  creation  and  every  bold  nation  will  see 
they  are  part  of  the  race  of  men  who're  not 
cowards — though  Davids  and  Howards  put 
blocks  all  around  in  their  way.  Though  de 
feated  today,  still  they  will  "make  hay", 
though  men  do  call  "Keep  still!"  for  now  to 
the  world  their  flag  is  unfurled,  and  they  mean 
to  win  out  through  their  will.  They'll  not 
quit  the  ring  tho  some  shout  and  sing,  "She's 
only  a  woman,  that's  all."  They're  made  of 
the  stuff  that  takes  no  rebuff!  They'll  win! 
They've  sent  out  the  call!  Yes,  Uncle  Sam's 


ii2  SOCIAL  POEMS 

men — some  bullies  and  Ben— think  women 
not  worthy  the  right,  but  you  can  just  bet, 
there  are  plenty  of  men  yet,  who  will  help 
the  women  to  fight.  The  decision  is  in 
— "they're  worth  not  a  pin" — in  the  way  that 
man  plays  the  game.  But  that's  no  criterion, 
they'll  fight  the  whole  year  in,  and  bring  up 
the  issue  again.  Who  think  they  will  pine, 
sit  down  and  then  whine,  and  say  things  ugly 
and  hard  'bout  "lords  of  creation,"  and  their 
situation  don't  understand  women,  my  pard. 
So  lawmaker-men,  who've  turned  them  down 
when  they  asked  for  their  share  in  the  vote, 
just  retain  your  big  laughter,  for  quite  a  while 
after,  you'll  see  them  conquer  through  hope. 
Through  hope  and  good  cheer  without  any  fear 
of  the  outcome  to  them  in  the  end.  They'll 
be  equal  to  you  and  your  sons,  too — to 
Freddie  to  Sammie  and  Ben.  You  can't  keep 
'em  down,  you  and  your  frown.  If  you  think 
so  you've  not  "hit  it";  or  you  do  not  know  the 
women  whose  goal  is  the  ballot  and  all  that 
goes  with  it.  Though  defeated  once  more 
(you  can't  make  'em  sore);  the  women  all 
over  the  land  will  write  and  will  talk,  will  ride 
and  will  walk,  and  last  will  win  Uncle  Sam. 
They're  bound  to  be  free,  the  women  you  see, 
there's  no  getting  round  all  of  that,  for  they're 
right  in  the  game  and  to  keep  up  the  same, 
they  will  stay  where  they've  thrown  down  the 
hat.  And  that  is  the  ring,  to  shout  and  to 
sing  for  ballot  and  suffrage  and  votes; 
they'll  continue  to  do  till  they  see  the 
thing  through  and  they're  counted  worth 


WOMEN'S  SUFFRA  GE  113 

more  than  the  goats.  So  don't  you  be  smart 
and  think  you  have  art  more  noble  and 
greater  than  they.  As  you  fought  to  win, 
through  thick  and  through  thin,  they'll  match 
your  deuce  with  a  trey.  You  fought  for  your 
rights,  through  dark  stormy  nights,  till  king 
doms  gave  you  freeman's  votes;  now  they'll 
do  the  same,  beat  you  at  your  game,  for 
they'll  not  pine  or  mope.  They'll  keep  up 
their  vim;  with  smiling  they'll  win;  and  you 
will  be  proud  of  'em  more — and  ashamed 
after  while — that  you're  beat  by  their  smile, 
and  didn't  'franchise  'em  before. 


ii4  SOCIAL  POEMS 

---    % 

GOSSIP 


"  'They  say/  he  kissed  Matilda  as  they  walked  along 

the  way." 
But  Matilda  was  in  Oshkosh  and  he  at  Sheepshead 

Bay, 
When  they  said,  he  kissed  Matilda  as  they  walked  along 

the  way. 

"  'They  say,'  that  Jones  has  left  her,  has  left  and  mean 

to  stay." 

But  Jones  was  at  a  funeral — as  mourner  met  delay, 
When  they  said,  that  Jones  had  left  her  and  had  left 

his  wife  to  stay. 

"  'They  say/  Susanna's  jilted  and  has  thrown  her  life 

away." 
Susanna  was  in  bathing;  tried  her  brand  new  suit  that 

day 
They  said,  she  was  a  suicide — had  thrown  her  life  away. 

"  'They  say/  he  is  a  grafter — in  politics  he'll  stay" 
Our  Senator  was  walloped,  beaten  thru  "schedule  K" 
Because  he  would  not  bow   to    Baal   and   take   their 
"dough"  that  day. 

"  'They  say/  Rebecca  hit  him — 'threw  a  rolling  pin'," 

some  say. 
He  was  putting  up  a  stove  pipe  which  fell  and  came 

his  way 
When  they  said  his  wife  had  hit  him  with  a  brick  or 

club  that  day. 


GOSSIP  115 

"  'They  say,'  the  parson's  son's  a  crook — with  a  wad 

he  walked  away." 
But  he  had  been  away  to  school,  had  honors  from  Fall 

to  May 
A  scholarship  he'd  won  'stead  of  a  "stolen  purse"  that 

day. 

"  'They  say,'  Smith's  son's  in  trouble — in  the  work 

house  he  must  stay," 

That  very  son's  in  business,  owns  part  of  all  Broadway 
And  passes  the  collection  plate  in  church  each  bright 

Sunday. 

"  'They  say,'  she  is  to  be  a  mother — that's  why  she 
went  away." 

She  went  to  have  a  tooth  "pulled  out"  upon  that  fate 
ful  day. 

She  then  came  back  and  married  well;  but  the  gossips 
had  their  say. 

O,  meet  me  in  the  open,  do  not  fight  me  with  "they 

say." 
Just  call  me  "thief",  "sandbagger",  "liar",  all  to  ME, 

today. 
But   do   not   fight   with   gossip — with  that  dastardly, 

"They  say." 


n6  SOCIAL  POEMS 


BABIES  AND  HOGS 


"Representative of would      have      the 

automobile  driver  who  runs  over  a  farmer's  hog 
or  chicken  or  dog-,  stop,  notify  the  owner,  make 
a  reasonable  effort  to  agree  upon  a  settlement. 
***Babies  are  not  mentioned." — News  item 


A  chauffeur  kills  a  hog,  sir,  and  stops  to  explain, 

He  weeps  and  he  is  sorry;  he  then  takes  out  his  wad, 
And  pays  for  damages  that  he's  wrought  in  sunshine  or 

in  rain — 

He  pays  if  he  has  killed  a  goose  or  damaged  "mister 
hog." 

But  should  it  be  a  baby  small — an  act  inhuman  quite — 
He  turns  on  the  "gas"  again  and  hikes  like  the 
"devil". 

A  hog  is  worth  a  wad  of  money — a  baby  not  a  mite — 
We  care  for  little  piggie  so — babe's  not  on  his  level. 

If  a  reckless  chauffeur  driving  fast  should  hit  a  dog's 

left  ear, 
He  carefully  stops  right  there  and  then,  and  takes  out 

his  fat  wad 
And  asks,  "O  pray  how  much  dear  sir? — Do  you  never 

fear- 

(But  not  if  it's  a  baby,  see?)  "for  chicken  or  for 
hog." 


BABIES  AND  HOGS  1 1 7 

Much  cash  we  raise  for  chickens,  sir,  for  geese,  also  for 

hogs; 
We  feed  'em  well  and  house  'em  too  and  pay  if  they 

are  killed; 
But  babies  of  the  common  man  are  treated  just  like 

dogs, 

(Not  only  killed),  they  work  all  day  with  stomachs 
hardly  filled. 

Be  careful  then  of  pigs  and  chicks,  of  doggies  and  of 

geese; 
Protect  them  well  and  watch  them  too,  and  pay  if 

they  are  dead; 
We  cut  the  wage  of  children  poor;  in  other  ways  we 

fleece, 

Abuse  them  sore,  and  starve  them  too,  and  nothing 
e'er  is  said. 


Our  cash  we  spend  for  better  hogs,  for  better  stock  each 

year; 

Complain  and  snarl  when  we  are  asked  to  aid  a  help 
less  child; 

We  legislate  for  damage  done  to  hog  or  cow  or  deer, 
But  clutch  at  our  big,  fat  purse  strings — more  cares 
on  children  pile. 


If  you  are  looking  for  an  angel,  don't 
come  my  way — how  about  yourself? 


n8  SOCIAL  POEMS 


NO  BABIES  WANTED  IN  THIS  FLAT 


A  flat  for  rent;  the  best  that  is; 

Steam  heated,  light  and  all  of  that, 
We  need  your  money  in  our  biz — 

No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat. 

"A  flat  for  rent  on  Nabob  street, 
Not  a  cock  roach,  a  mouse  or  rat, 

This  one  indeed  is  very  neat — 
No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat. 

"Our  flat  has  just  been  renovated 
Outside  and  in,  from  post  to  slat, 

'Tis  very  pleasantly  located — 
No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat. 

Our  tenants  wear  the  latest  style, 

In  sock  and  shirt,  in  waist  and  hat; 

Your  living  here  is  worth  your  while — 
No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat. 

"Come  noted  people,  one  and  all, 
Small  peuple,  big  or  lean  or  fat, 

Our  rooms  are  airy — spacious  hall — 
No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat. 

"The  great  and  wise,  the  rich  and  smart, 
Live  here  with  parrot,  dog  or  cat. 

We  need  one  more — what  is  your  art? 
No  babies  wanted  in  this  flat." 


SOCIAL  POEMS  119 


KING  ALCOHOL  BOWS  TO  SUFFRAGETTES 


"Ho!  I'm  king  of  kings,  aho! 

I  torture  kings;  I  ruin  and  kill, 
For  I'm  the  great  king  still  in  tow, 

Your  homes  with  frightful  horrors  fill. 

"Ho!  I'm  the  king  of  kings,  aho! 

I  laugh  at  widows,  scorn  the  child 
Whose  father  spends  his  hard  earned 
'dough' 

Across  my  bar  'till  his  brain  is  wild. 

"Ho!  I'm  the  king  of  kings,  aho! 

I  fill  my  pockets  while  children  cry; 
I  dance  and  sing  while  the  funeral  slow 

Goes  by  my  door,  for  what  care  I 

"If  drunkards  die  and  children  moan? 

I've  made  my  money,  my  purse  is  fat. 
For  I  am  king  o'er  that  ruined  home — 

But  what  care  I  for  all  of  that? 

"Ho!  I'm  the  king  of  kings,  aho! 

Send  men  to  hell;  and  women  deprave; 
Some  rush  to  death,  while  some  go  slow, 

And  one  by  one,  fill  a  drunkards 's 
grave. 


120  SOCIAL  POEMS 

"That's  'nix'  to  me,  I'm  king,  aho! 

I  murder  men  and  children  slay, 
The  law  provides  for  me,  heigho! 

I  gloat  o'er  men,  to  slay  and  flay. 

"But  then  I'll  not  be  king,  O  no! 

If  women  perchance  the  suffrage  get; 
So  hell!  I'll  spend  my  cash  to  sow 

Lies;  and  traps  and  snares  I'll  set 

"So  folks  will  keep  me  king,  aho! 

So  I  can  revel  in  man's  despair. 
I  dance  with  glee,  aha!  heigho! . 

When  moans  of  sufferers  fill  the  air. 

"I'm  spending  cash  as  king,  aho! 

I'm  buying  pulpit,  brains  and  press 
To  keep  the  'skirts'  from  votes,  heigho! 

I  dread  their  power — I  do  confess. 

"While  women  are  manacled,  aho, 
And  they  do  not  the  ballot  hold. 

I'll  still  be  king  of  kings,  by  Joe!  — 
And  spread  dire  hell  from  pole  to  pole. 

"So  I'll  be  king  of  kings,  aho! 

Sow  hell  and  death  and  drunks  pell 

mell, 
Till  women  get  the  vote,  heigho ! 

And  I'm  debarred  my  wares  to  sell. 


"Till  then  I'm  king  of  kings,  aho! 

So  'ischkabibble'  'King  Alcohol !'- 
'Till  women  vote  and  strike  the  blow 

That  makes  my  kingdom  take  its  fall. 

"But  as  it  is,  I'm  king  aho! 

'But  I  should  worry',  man's  a  fool — 
Keeps  the  ballot  from  women — heigho! 

And  lets  King  Alcohol  have  rule. 

"I  dance!     I  sing!     I  smirk!    aho! 

The  law,  the  cops,  they're  all  my  own, 
While  women  are  barred  from  votes, 

heigho ! 

And  men  do  reap  what  they  have 
sown." 


122  SOCIAL  POEMS 

GOOD  ROADS 


To  E.  C.  Issenhuth  Father  of    the    Good    Roads 
Movement,  in  South  Dakota. 


We  were  rolling  along,  our  mouths   filled  with 
song, 

We  lovers,  down  Spink  county  road; 
When  the  first  thing  we  knew  (O  save  us,  yes 
do!) 

We  spilt — we  and  our  load! 
We  knew  the  poor  roads  had  spoiled  many  loads, 

But  we  didn't  expect  it  again. 
Alas  and  forsooth!  heeded  not  Issenhuth — 

Issenhuth  and  his  theme  of  "Good  Roads." 

The  .next  year  while  taking — his  Good  Roads  for 
saking — 

Wheat  to  market  to  get  me  some  cash, 
I  got  half-way  there,  when,  lo  what  a  scare! 

A  creak,  a  chuck  and  a  smash; 
And  I  was  detained  (I  and  my  grain) 

In  a  rut  stuck  deep,  and  bad. 
I  thought  of  E.  C.,  who  had  talked  much  to  me 

Of  Good  Roads.    I  thought  he  was  mad. 

I  put  ten  dollars  down  to  get  pulled  to  town 

And  my  wagon  fixed  up  so  'twould  run; 
And  glad,  I  repeat,  to  get  off  so  cheap, 

When  I  think  of  the  damages  done. 
Had  I  given  five  dollars  with  horses  and  collars 

To  fix  that  road,  don't  you  see, 
Five  dollars  ahead  I'd  be,  Uncle  Ned, 

And  encouraged  Good  Roads  and  E.  C. 


GOOD  ROADS  123 

I  was  starting  to  haul  some  hay  this  last  fall, 

(Each  fall,  I  market  some  hay) 
When  I  struck  a  mudhole — alone  not  a  soul — 

And  there  I  remained  for  the  day. 
I  thought  of  more  loads  and  I  thought  of  Good 
Roads, 

Of  Issenhuth  too  you  bet! 
I  first  fought  him  hard,  but  now  he's  my  pard. 

On  Good  Roads  my  mind  is  now  set. 

It's  strange  is  it  not — you  haven't  forgot — 

How  we  fight  these  new  f angled  things? 
How   we   fight   the    reformer  —  tradesman    and 
farmer — 

And  neglect  the  wisdom  he  brings? 
But  our  Issenhuth  with  the  spirit  of  youth, 

Will  win.    Then  haul  big  loads! 
And  our  thrifty  young  state  will  often  relate, 

The  wisdom  of  E.  C.  and  Good  Roads. 


My  name  may  be  "Mud",  but,  "old 
man,"  it's  clean. 


i24  SOCIAL  POEMS 

^ 

WILSON'S  WATCHFUL  WAITING 


"To  hell  with  Mex— let's  do  'em  up; 

A  few  Americans  have  been  slain; 
We  won't  down  there  leave  one  grease  spot 

When  Uncle  Samuel  takes  the  rein. 
Strike  up  the  band ;  we  want  to  fight ! 

We'll    clean    that    'greaser'    bunch    down 

there!" 
Thus  urged  the  people — "Come,  hurry  up! " — 

But  President  Wilson  was  in  the  chair. 

"This  watchful  waiting  gives  us  a  pain, 

They've  insulted  us  too  much — too  much; 
We'll  wipe  them  off  the  face  of  earth, 

For  now  they've  raised  'our  Dutch— our 

Dutch'; 
That  'Dutch'  is  up,  now  act  like  men ! 

Why  say,  that  little  bunch  down  there 
'Gainst  Uncle  Sam  won't  last  a  month  !"- 

But  President  Wilson  was  in  the  chair. 

"What  ails  the  president  anyway? 

A  few  'cow  punchers'  can  do  them  up, 
But  there  sits  Woodrow  like  a  chump! 

Why  don't  he  lick  that  Mexican  pup? 
We're  tired  of  waiting;  we  want  to  fight! 

They  can't  pull  out  your  Uncle's  hair 
Without  being  licked  into  a  pulp! 

But  President  Wilson  was  in  the  chair. 


WILSON'S  WATCHFUL  WAITING       125 

He  held  the  reins  till  steam  blew  off  ., 

And  people's  nerves  and  minds  were  quiet, 
And  tho  bombarded  on  every  side 

A  few  —  enough  —  with  him  stood  by  it. 
We'll  call  him  wonderful  and  great; 

All  time  will  praise  his  watchful  care; 
We'll  thank  our  "stars"  and  Bryan  too 

That  President  Wilson  was  in  the  chair. 

Again  we  see  there's  trouble  brewing 

With  warring  nations  across  the  sea, 
And  now  we  fuss,  and  fret,  and  fume, 

Discuss  the  end  at  lunch  and  tea. 
WThy  get  worked  up,  why  all  this  "sweat," 

Why  shout,  stampede  at  every  scare? 
Just  keep  your  seat  and  hold  your  nerve, 

For  President  Wilson  is  in  the  chair. 

Stand  by  the  president,  countrymen, 

And  bury  political  hate  and  gibes, 
Encourage  him  who  bears  the  load 

To  save  so  many,  many  lives. 
We're  writing  history  anew, 

We'll  add  a  page  that's  new  and  rare, 
He'll  pull  us  thru  without  the  sword  — 

It's  President  Wilson  who's  in  the  chair. 


^/w 

0  '      I 


126  SOCIAL  POEMS 

ABERDEEN 


Aberdeen  is  the  city  of  homes.— Aberdeen,  S.  D. 


Sweet  City  of  Homes,  Aberdeen! 

Aberdeen,  the  loved  of  the  west, 
Where  there  is  a  chance  for  the  man  who  is 
keen 

To  seek  and  make  for  the  best. 

Sweet  City  of  Homes,  Aberdeen! 

Where  uman  is  a  man  for  'a  that," 
Where  all  of  the  lowly  or  great,  I  ween, 

Can  own  their  own  homes  or  a  flat. 

Sweet  City  of  Homes,  Aberdeen ! 

The  pride  of  the  "Sunshine  State,' 
Where  wheat  and  where  corn  and  commerce 

are  seen 
Making  her  rich — it's  the  fate 

Of  sweet  City  of  Homes,  Aberdeen, 

For  placed  where  you  are  with  your  fields, 

With  workers  and  boosters,  means  wealth 

ever  green. 
'Tis  decreed  by  the  gods  and  their  seals. 

Sweet  City  of  Homes,  Aberdeen, 
In  you  our  hearts  swell  with  pride, 

If  its  wealth,  commerce  or  western  scene, 
You're  second  to  none — "our  bride." 


I  went  fishing  one  day  and 
caught — well,  let's  forget  it. 


SOCIAL  POEMS  127 


OUR  BOY  GOES  ON  AHEAD 


A  Poem  of  Condolence 


We'll  never  see  his  face  again, 
But  his  spirit's  with  us  still 

And  will  be  to  the  end  of  life — • 
A  law  by  God's  own  will. 

How  could  we  part  with  one  so  dear? 

Oh!  that  would  strike  us  dumb 
But  for  our  hope  of  life  beyond, 

And  hearing  Him  say,  "Come." 

We  could  not  rest  at  ease  behind; 

We  could  not  think  of  life 
As  anything  but  misery — 

With  God  we'll  win  the  strife! 

And  yet  we  have  much  comfort  still 

To  ponder  'bout  our  boy, 
Who  lived  with  us  for  twenty  years; 

Our  pride,  our  hope,  our  joy ! 

No  trouble  did  he  ever  give; 

No  watchful  nights  we  had; 
No  wondering  if  he  evil  sought; 

No  time  through  him  was  sad. 


128  SOCIAL  POEMS 

What  comfort  then  we  have,  alas! 

Though  in  our  sorrow  bent; 
What  comfort  through  our  tears  we  have 

For  all  the  joy  he  lent. 

He'll  not  endure  what  here  we  do; 

He's  through  with  earthly  pain, 
And  waits  with  joy  and  happiness 

Till  we  shall  meet  again. 

Though  dark  the  way  and  rough  the  road, 

We  hope — in  God  of  love 
That  though  today,  Gethsemane— 

We'll  meet  our  boy  above. 


"Like  produces  like";  good  deeds 
beget  good  deeds;  friendship  stimu 
lates  friends;  and  love,  love.  Get 
in  the  swim. 


SOCIAL  POEMS  129 

CAPITAL  PUNISHMENT 


The  South  Dakota  senate,  led  by  Senator  Plin 
Beebe,  votes  to  abolish  hanging. — News  item, 
January  20th,  1915. 


Of  all  accepted,  dark  and  bloody  crimes 

That  man  still  keeps  on  the  book  of  the  law 

Is  capital  punishment,  one  often  finds 
Such  glaring,  absurd,  outrageous  flaw! 

A  man  in  hot  passion  takes  another  man's  life, 
The  law  in  its  session,  with  time  and  in  "state", 

Does  the  very  same  crime  of  the  gun  or  the  knife, 
And  thinks  by  so  doing  to  lessen  man's  hate. 

The  absurdity,  aye,  the  foolish  mistake 
Of  murder  less,  by  setting  the  pace! 

Are  we  Christian  and  continue  to  make 

Laws  that  kill  others?  It's  absurd  on  the  face. 

Let's  now  make  amends;  give  good  for  the  bad; 

Be  more  like  men  than  savages  cruel; 
Teach  criminals  kindness  (Oh  it  is  sad!) 

"Like  produces  like,"  a  staid  and  fast  rule. 

When  will  we  learn  that  to  have  better  men 
We  must  set  the  example  and  show  them  the 
way 

Of  charity,  kindness,  calmness;  and  then 

Man's  inherent  goodness  responds  right  away. 


130  SOCIAL  POEMS 

Hold  on  there,  old  man,  you're  way  out  of  date, 
The  solons  at  Pierre  followed  Beebe  who  led. 

No  legal  killing  in  the  "Sunshine  State," 

No  more  hanging  humans  till  they  are  dead. 

Three  cheers  for  advancement;  three  for  Beebe! 

Three  cheers  for  Old  Glory  and  congress  at 

Pierre ! 
Posterity  will  praise  you,  lawmaker  men, 

For  this  legislative  act  of  the  year. 


God  dwells  in  us  according  to  the  love 
we  shed  abroad — How  much  of  God  have 
you? 


If  you  have  ever  done  me  a  wrong 
forget  it — it  has  been  blotted  from 
my  mind  recorder. 


ODE  TO  A  LANDMARK 


"Old  landmark  is  destroyed  by  fire.  Old  Beard 
block  built  in  1881.  ***Replaced  by  fire-proof 
structure. —  News  item. 


The  old  Beard  block  is  gone,  is  gone;  aye  now  is  gone 
forever ! 

She  stood  the  test  of  time  and  strain,  in  cold  and  pleas 
ant  weather. 

She's  gone  the  way  all  men  must  go,  to  make  room 
for  another, 

And  though  replaced  by  modern  block,  she  was  our 
building  "mother." 

Man's  going  on  and  thine,  old  friend,  isn't  bad  as  we 

suppose, 

If  we  are  true  and  ready  too,  to  go  and  meet  with  those 
Who've  passed  this  way  as  we  pass  on — our  loved  ones 

and  our  blest. 
Yea,  not  so  bad,  old  landmark  friend,  if  we  have  done 

our  best. 

So  fare  thee  well,  old  landmark  friend,  friend  we'll  miss, 

alas ! 
You  did  your  part,  you  served  your  age,  it's  but  your 

right  to  pass. 
It's  but  your  right  to  pass  away,  make  room  for  blocks 

anew; 
And  so,  we  too,  will  serve  our  age,  pass  on,  pass  on 

as  you. 


132  SOCIAL  POEMS 


IT'S  YOU 


When  my  soul's  engulfed  in  darkness; 

When  the  tears  begin  to  flow; 
When  words  seem  not  to  comfort; 

When  no  one  else  can  know 
Just  why  my  heart  is  aching, 

And  cannot  understand; 
I  seek  thee,  life's  companion — 

In  fancy  feel  thy  hand. 
My  heart  is  stirred  and  warmed, 

I  know  you're  the  friend  so  true; 
In  spirit  still  you  guide  me, 

My  loving  wife,  it's  you. 


Sausages 


SAUSAGES  135 


'LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT" 


If  life  is  what  we  make  it — 
What  about  your  mother-in-law? 

Whose  fault  is  it  that  she  comes  round, 
Forever  works  her  jaw? 

If  life  is  what  we  make  it — 
What  about  a  boil  on  your  leg? 

Did  you  make  that,  or  inherit  it? 
Come  down  a  notch  or  a  peg! 

If  life  is  what  we  make  it — 

What  about  the  Johnstown  flood? 

"You  lie!"  said  one  to  Mikey  Flynn. 
He  soaked  ME  with  a  club. 

If  life  is  what  we  make  it — 

Johnny  Jones,  look  here ! 
I  sat  alone,  when,  zip!  there  came 

An  egg  and  hit  my  ear ! 

Now  tell  me,  sir,  what  did  I  do 

As  peacefully  I  sat, 
And  did  not  say  or  do  a  thing — 

But  got  a  swat  like  that? 


136  SAUSAGES 

If  life  is  what  we  make  it — 
And  I  got  rotten  egged — 

Oh  lordy  massa!     Mary  Ann! 
I'll  next  become  peg-legged! 

And  then  what's  next,  I  cannot  tell, 
Suppose  I'll  lose  my  "goat," 

If  I  lose  that  I'm  gone  for  sure — 
They'll  surely  have  me  soaked! 

Is  life  then  what  we  make  it? 

The  devil  adds  a  fling: 
"I  get  the  knocks  the  'old  boy'  sends — 

I'm  blamed  for  the  whole  dern  thing." 


SAUSAGES  137 


WHY  MY  WIFE  LEFT  ME 


My  wifey  dear  is  large  and  husky,  in  fact  a  trained 

athlete. 
Had  won  all  honors  in  her  gym;  with  Samson  could 

compete. 
She  practiced  well  with  big  dumb  bell;  could  double 

quick  the  hall; 
Swimming   tank   and   rowing   boat — well   captain   of 

them  all. 
Domestic  science,  her  long  suit;  her  tasty  home-made 

bread 
Was  due  to  the  use  of  the  rolling  pin — she  practiced 

on  my  head. 


My  wife,   she  seemed   to   love   me — that's   what   the 

neighbors  said — 
She  practiced  every  cooking  day  by  soaking  my  poor 

head. 
I  bought  a  car;  most  stylish  clothes  were  hers,  and  not 

a  few; 
I  did  my  level  best  to  be  her  sweetheart  tried  and 

true. 
I  cut  the  wood,  washed  dishes  too,  swept  and  made 

the  bed. 
Despite  all  this  she  left  because  she  couldn't  soak  my 

head. 


138  SAUSAGES 

She  told  me  how  to  brush  my  hair  and  said  I  should 

be  fat 
When  I  was  lean — she  wanted  me  round  instead  of 

flat. 
I  ate  and  ate  and  ate  some  more;  'twas  eating  for  her 

sake; 
In  fact  did  almost  everything  but  try  to  cook  and 

bake. 
My  wife  did  that — her  arm  is  strong — I  swept  and 

made  the  bed. 
But  wifey  dear,  she  left  because  she  couldn't  soak  my 

head. 


And  now  I  am  a  lonesome    man,    I'm    sorry    "we're 

all  in;" 
That  is,  I  would  be  sorry  quite,  if  not  for  the  rolling 

pin. 
Guess  I  will  call  and  see  her  ma  and  tell  her  how  it 

went; 
For  really  now,  I  love  my  wife  and  on  her  love  I'm 

bent. 

#         #         #         *         *         # 

I've  seen  her  ma  and  seen  her  pa,  and  it's  all  right  they 

said, 
And  she'll  come  back,  be  my  sweet  wife,  stop  soaking 

my  poor  head. 


Autos  honk,  fools  croak,  cranks  kick, 
but  men  hoe  corn. 


SAUSAGES  139 


WHY  I  AM  SINGLE 


I  built  a  house,  and  furnished  it  and  planned  a  real 

good  time, 
Had  done  my  best  to  own  a  home,  the  best  one  of  its 

kind. 
I  took  "her"  there,  walked  'bout  the  place  and  showed 

her  all  around; 
She  led  me  under  a  true  lover's  moon  and  there  she 

turned  me  down. 

Another    time    I    bought   a    car    and    diamonds    too, 

you  bet; 
And  thought  right  there  I  was  secure  with  a  bride,  the 

best  one  yet. 
I  took  her  out  to  "joy  ride,"  no  better  road  e'er 

found, 
As  we  rode  under  a  true  lover's  moon,  O  me,  she  turned 

me  down. 

Then  one  fine  day  I  bought  a  farm  and  stocked  it  well, 

you  see; 
I  talked  it  over  with  my  girl,  she  promised  to  love 

me— 
And  then  her  mother  came  our  way — a  mother  with  a 

frown — 
She  led  me  under  a  true  lover's  moon  and  there  SHE 

turned  me  down. 


140  SAUSAGES 

One  time  I  set  my  mind  to  get  the  fairest  girl,  you 

know, 
I  won  her  heart  and  thought  her  hand  was  mine  as  well, 

by  Joe ! 
When  I  set  out  to  see  her  pa  who  lived  just   out   of 

town, 
He  led  me  under  a  true  lover's  moon  and  there  HE 

turned  me  down. 
/ 

Since  then  I've  given  up  the  chase,  it  hardly  seems 

worth  while, 
So  I'm  content  to  live  a  batch — a  batch  right  up  to 

style— 
And  work  and  save  and  play  the  part  of  a  man  with 

great  renown 
And  won't  be  led  under  any  moon  to  let  'EM  turn  me 

down. 


When  in  doubt  kick  your  preacher — 
it  will  relieve  your  feelings  and  maybe 
he  needs  its. — That's  the  way  the  world 
seems  to  view  the  preacher  business. 


SAUSAGES  141 


SUPPOSE 


Suppose  you  were  a  mother-in-law, 
One  of  the  talkative  kind? 

How  would  you  like  to  be  muzzled 
Or  soaked  away  in  brine? 

Suppose  you  were  a  little  dog, 

One  of  the  higher  class? 
How  would  you  like  to  be  labeled 

With  a  collar  made  of  brass? 

Suppose  you  were  a  real  ducky, 
A  duck  that  flies  and  swims? 

How  would  you  like  to  live  on  eels 
Or  fish  that  have  big  fins? 

Suppose  you  were  a  black  spider, 
The  poisonous  kind,  you  know? 

How  would  you  like  to  be  caged  up 
And  travel  with  a  show? 

Suppose  you  were  an  elephant, 
With  trunk  so  long  and  fine? 

How  would  you  like  to  eat  peanuts 
And  travel  all  the  time? 

Suppose  you  were  a  big  jackass, 
(And  that's  not  saying  much,) 

How  would  you  like  to  be  prodded? 
Come  on!  what  say  you  Dutch? 


142  SAUSAGES 

Suppose  you  were  a  dog-gone  fool 

And  didn't  have 'a  cent, 
How  would  you  pay  for  coal  and  wood 

Or  even  pay  your  rent? 

Suppose  you  were  a  trick  monkey, 

The  show  kind  in  a  cage, 
What  would  you  think  of  living  then, 

If  fed  on  nuts  and  sage? 

Suppose  your  wife  had  just  left  you, 

Had  left  and  gone  away? 
O  say,  where  would  you  sleep  at  night, 

In  bed,  or  stack  of  hay? 

Suppose  you're  I  and  I  were  you, 
And  both  were  "Batty  Bills"? 

O  cut  it  out — this  word  "Suppose" 
And  give  me  Munyon's  pills. 

"Suppose?    Suppose?"  "Hey  cut  it  out 
I've  heard  enough  for  me." 

Suppose  just  for  a  kid,  suppose, 
Suppose,  you're  Patty's  flea? 


SAUSAGES  143 

THE  HIGH  COST  OF  LIVING 


"Will  the  si.-e  of  the  loaf  be  smaller?  This  is  the 
question  that  worries  consumers  as  the  price  of 
wheat  goes  upward." — News  item. 


Will  the  size  of  the  loaf  be  smaller?  for  heaven's  sake 

say,  "No." 
It  will  drive  me  to  the  mad  house,   to   the   calaboose 

I'll  go. 

How  could  a  loaf  be  smaller?  (O  heavens  give  us 
hope ! ) 

It  can't  be  seen,  if  smaller  'tis,  without  a  micro 
scope. 

I  used  to  buy  a  loaf    of  bread;    on  it  my  family 

feed, 
And  when  the  meal  was  over  with  we  had  some  left 

"for  seed." 

But  O,  ye  gods!   who  make  our  laws  and  now  our 

bread  do  bake ! 

For  heaven's  sake!  don't  cut  it  down; — I'll  have  the 

belly  ache. 

That  stomach  ache,  will  ache,  'cause — can't  you  under 
stand? 

A  little  loaf  will  irritate  worse  than  a  grain  of 
sand. 

I'd     rather     die     of     starving;      run     over     by     a 

"chauf," 
Than  be  killed  off  with  a  bit  of  dough  made  into  a 

smaller  loaf. 


144  SAUSAGES 


WHAT  A  WIFE  SHOULD  EXPECT  FROM  HER 
HUSBAND 


What  a  wife  should  expect  from  her 
husband? 

Why  nothing,  you  should  know  that 
Except,  once  in  a  very  long  while, 

A  new  winter  coat  or  a  hat. 

Why  should  she  expect  or  even  dare 

think 

Of  things  from  her  husband,  her  "lord?" 
If  he  gives  her  a  room — perchance  a  new 

broom, 
And  stately  allows  her  board? 

What  a  wife  should   expect    from   her 
husband 

Is  meager  and  scrubby  and  flat; 
For  isn't  he  lord  of  all  creation ! 

And  doesn't  she  know  all  of  that? 

If  she  has  a  room  and  soup  once  a  day, 
Is  allowed  the  care  of  her  child; 

What  more  does  she  want,  in  this  age  of 

the  world? — 
I  forgot,  she  might  want  a  smile. 


What  a  Wife  Should  Expect  From  Her  Husband  145 

For  parties  and  outing;  for  friendships 

and  dance 

She  never  should  give  them  a  care; 
Should  wait  on  his  lordship,  take  wash 
ings,  perchance — 
Look  after  the  dear  children's  hair.    - 

That's  pleasure  enough,  aye,  plenty  "me 

lord," 

And  that's  quite  enough  for  a  bride, 
So  let  her  remember  her  place  and  her 

work, 
Her  husband,  the  kids  and  fireside. 

%         ;J<         %         ^e         %         3f 

But  then,  women  dear,  there  are  men 

and  there  're  men, 
There  are  men  and  lovers  of  wives, 
Who    see    that    their    helpmeets    have 

everything  nice 
From  smiling  to  friendships  and  drives. 

A  wife  should  expect  from  her  husband 

that's  human 

The  very  best  time  in  the  world; 
And  the  one  who  deprives  her,  this  privi 
lege  and  pleasure 
Is  the  worst  of  a  devilish  churl. 


146  SAUSAGES 

WHAT  A  MAN  SHOULD  EXPECT  FROM  HIS  WIFE 


What  a  man  should  expect  from  his  wife? 

Why,  every  thing  under  the  sun 
From  cutting  the  wood  for  his  breakfast, 

To  wadding  and  cleaning  his  gun. 

A  wife  that's  good  "lays  her  hand  to  the  distaff;" 
Takes  washing  and  sharpens  her  knife; 

Most  everything  he  can  hope  or  expect 
He  surely  should  have  from  his  wife. 

When  baby's  asleep,  (he,  snoring  in  bed), 

Let  her  darn  up  all  of  the  socks; 
Learn  patching  too,  how  husbands  are  fed, 

Then  walk  with  the  wash  ten  blocks. 

She  can  write,  she  can  cook,  raise  cash  for  the  rent; 

She  can  paint,  make  over  old  hats; 
While  husband  is  out  on  pleasure  bent 

Can  even  kill  roaches  and  rates. 


With  this  we  are  judging  some  of  your  men, 
But  you  can  just  bet  your  sweet  lives 

There  are  plenty  of  men  that  you  and  I  know, 
Don't  expect  quite  so  much  from  their  wives. 


SAUSAGES  147 

WHAT'S  WRONG  WITH  MATRIMONY? 


What's  wrong  with  matrimony?      "Why,    man,    the 

whole  blame  thing!" 
That's  what  the  bachelors  tell  you,   that's   what   the 

bachelors  sing. 

They  have  no  wives  or   babies,  no  grocery  bills  or 

rent, 
No  coal;  no  gowns  to  buy;  for  self  there's  every 

cent. 
No  handy  rolling  pin;  no  feathers,  waists  or 

hats. 
No  mothers-in-law  there  are;  no  extra  beds  or  flats. 


But  think!  ye  men,  there's  no  sweet  wife  to  greet  you 

with  a  smile, 
No  little  ones  to  call  you  "dad"  and  play  with  you  the 

while. 

What's  wrong  with  holy  matrimony?     Say  man,  why 

take  the  fling? 
If  man  and  wife  are  mated  right,  there's  not  one 

single  thing. 


Lose  you  temper  and  you've  lost 
your  game. 


SAUSAGES 
CATCHING  A  MORNING  TRAIN 


Did  you  ever  rise  at  three  A.  M.  to  catch 

a  morning  train? 
For  if  you  have,  I'll  bet  a  dime  you 

won't  do  so  again — • 
And  did  you  hear  the  dread  alarm,  at 

three,  beneath  your  bed?— 
That  is,  you  thought  'twas  three  o'clock, 

'twas  two-fifteen  instead. 
Did  you  repose  again  to  sleep,  to  sleep 

with  one  eye  open? 
Did  you  doze  off  a  dozen  times  and  wake 

scared  stiff  or  frozen? 
And  then  at  last  the  time  had  past,  and 

starting  from  a  doze 
You  leaped  from  bed,  clear  'cross  the 

room  and  nearly  broke  your  nose 
Against  the  blasted  old  gas  yet,  a-stick- 

ing  from  the  wall? 
Then  did  you  pick  up  all  your  clothes 

and  steal  into  the  hall, 
So's  not  to  wake  your  sleeping  wife  and 

in  the  uspare  room"  dress? 
And  were  you  only  half  awake,  O  tell 

me,  no  or  yes? 
Then  did  you  get  one  pant  leg  on  or  was 

it  the  wrong  sock; 
And  pinch  yourself  to  get  awake;  look 

squarely  at  the  clock 
And  saw  your  dumfounded  alarm  was 

thirty  minutes  late? 
Then  did  you  storm,  and  fuss,  and  fume, 

and  say,  "That's  just  my  fate"? 


SAUSAGES  149 

And  did  you  have  but  one  shoe  on,  the 

other  need  a  lace? 
Then  did  you  squirm  and  sweat,  and  fret 

and  make  a  dreadful  face? 
And  did  you  get  one  shirt  sleeve  on  and 

try  to  get  the  other 
When  all  at  once  your  shirt  you  tore  and 

had  to  get  another? 
The  time  was  flying  fast  away;  likewise 

your  coming  train 
Was  flying  toward  your  town  depot,  and 

you  almost  insane? 
Then  did  you  get  a  collar  button  and  try 

to  put  it  on, 
When,    thunderation !    Carrie    Nation! 

you  found  that  it  was  gone? 
Then  after  scrambling  on  the  floor,  be 
neath  the  dresser  too; 
Then  did  you  bruise  your  knee  or  shin, 

and  step  upon  a  screw? 
Say,  did  you  then  forsake  the  hunt,  de 
cide  to  get  one  more? 
When — hang  the  gas !  the  thing  went  out 

— you  bumped  against  the  door. 
At  last  all  dressed — you  thought  you 

were — no    brush    had    touched 

your  pate, 
You  ran  half  way,  till  out  of  breath,  and 

found  the  train  was  late ! ! 
And  did  you  then — we  will  not  mention 

what  you  thought  and  said — 
Determine  the  next  three  o'clock  would 

find  you  snug  in  bed? 


SAUSAGES 


THE  TALKATIVE  MAN 


Have  you  ever  met  the  man  who  can  talk 

Say,  a  leg  off  a  piano  stool? 
He'll  back  the  women  who  can  talk  off  the  earth, 

His  tongue  is  a  wonderful  tool. 


He  talks  'bout  rain,  or  perhaps  'bout  weather; 

It  may  be  the  lodge  that  he  loves; 
His  lodge  talk  he'll  talk,  as  you  sit  or  you  walk; 

Or  maybe  it's  horses  or  doves. 

Or  golf  it  may  be — what  a  golfer  he  is! — 

On  tennis  his  tongue  may  run, 

How  well    he    can    serve — what    knack!     and    what 
nerve ! 

And  the  medals  this  talker  has  won  (?) 

In  his  MIND,  has  won,  or  is  yet  to  win; 

But  he  talks  of  HIS  "serves"  and  HIS  gait; 
0,  this  lawn  tennis  man;  women,  beat  if  you  can — 

Any  woman  he'll  talk  off  the  slate. 

It  may  be  baseball  that  now  turns  his  tongue, 
Baseball — just  see  that  broad  smile!  — 

This  wild  baseball  fan — O  this  talkative  man— 
Has  woman  backed  down  by  a  mile. 


THE  TALKATIVE  MAN  151 

Then  another  he  tells — a  whopper  this  time — 

The  truth,  you  are  sure  that  he  bends, 
But  he's  got  you  held  fast  and  you  wait  till  the  last 

Of  the  tale  that  you  think  never  ends. 

He  talks  and  he  talks;  and  he  talks  and  he  talks; 

This  talking,  most  talkative  man, 
Like  a  clock  that  is  wound  and  will  never  run  down; 

Among  dames  find  his  equal.    Who  can? 

Or  maybe  just  now,  it's  some  business  deal: 
How  HE  managed  to  "put  the  deal  thru" ! 

How  a  million  he  won!  in  HIS  MIND— O  the  fun  (?) 
When  the  talkative  man  gets  at  you! 

Fun  for  HIM,  don't  you  know,  O  this  talkative  man! 

You  think  of  your  time — you  would  flee. 
But  when  you  would  go,  he  continues,  says,  "No 

Just  wait  now — that  'reminds  me'." 


152  SAUSAGES 

THE  TALKATIVE  WOMAN 


Do  you  know  the  talkative  woman;   the  woman  who 

talks  and  talks? 
The  talkative  kind  of  a  woman — she  talks,  and  she 

talks  and  she  talks. 

The  woman  who  talks  is  a  talkative  woman  and  a 

woman  talker  still  talks. 

The  woman  who  talks  and  continues  to  talk,  is  a  talka 
tive  woman — she  talks. 

The  talkative  kind  of  a  talkative  woman,  is  a  woman 

who  talks  while  talking. 
A  talking  talker,  is  a  woman  who  talks,  and  talks 

while  talking  and  talking. 

A  talking  talkative  kind  of  a  talking  woman  who  talks, 
Is  a  woman  who's  talkative  about  all  she  talks  and  then 
continues  her  talks. 

This  talking,  talkative  talks  talking  woman,  is  a  woman 

who  talks  talking  talks, 
And  a  talking  talkative,  talker  woman,  is  the  same  as 

another  who  talks. 

So  talking  or  talker;  talkative  or  talks;  she's  a  woman 

who  talks  talking  talks, 
And  a  talker,  talkative  talker  is  a  woman  who  talks, 

talks,  talks  and  talks. 


THE  TALKATIVE  WOMAN  153 

A  talking  kind  of  a  talkative  woman    is    a   talkative 

woman  who  talks. 
And  a  talkative  kind  of  a  talking  woman,  is  a  talking 

talker  who  talks. 

A  talker  kind  of  a  talking  woman,  is  a  talkative  woman 

who  talks. 
And  a  talkative  talker  woman  is  a  talkative  talker  who 

talks. 


A  talking,  talker,  talkative  woman,  is  a  talkative  talker 

who  talks, 
And  a  talkative,  talker,  talking  woman  is  the  woman 

who  talks  and  talks  and  talks. 


We  get  out  of  the  world  as  much  as 
we  put  into  it,  and  more — what's  your 
share? 


154  SAUSAGES 

THE  WAY  TO  FIGHT  MOSQUITOES 


The  way  to  fight  mosquitoes?    That's  easy,  Uncle  Ned; 
Just  hit  'em  on  the  cranium  until  they  are  dead. 

Poison  them,  drown  them,  soak  'em  on  the  head; 
Any  way  to  fight  them  so  that  they  are  dead. 

'"4*v 

Of  course  the  purple  martins,  they  say,  on  them  are  fed, 
But  the  way  to  fight  mosquitoes,  is  just  to  kill  them 
dead. 

Don't  cork  'em  in  the  stom-jack  or  swat  'em  in  the  bed 
Unless  you  hit  'em  hard  enough  to  kill  'em  dead,  dead. 

A  mosquito  has  a  dozen  lives  (some,  twenty- four  'tis 

said) 
I  guess  it's  nearer  fifty  when  they're  not  dead. 

A  dead  mosquito,  half  alive,  will  pester  any  head 
That's  short  of  hair,  unless  he's  sure  enough  dead,  dead. 

So  go  at  'em  with  pitchfork,  galting  gun  or  lead. 

So  long  as  you  are  sure  that  they're  dead,  dead,  dead. 


SAUSAGES  155 


A  SKUNK  USES  VIOLENCE— A  MAN  NEVER!  ! 


A  SKYLARK'S  ODE  TO  THE  FORD 

Where  are  you  going,  my  happy  man? 
"I'm  going  to  buy  a  car,"  said  Ham; 
So  the  son  of  Ham  and  Ham  himself, 
And  Ham's  son's  Ham  and  Ham's 

young  elf, 

Ham's  Cousin  Kate  and  Uncle  McCord; 
In  fact,  the  whole  Ham  family  bought 
a  Ford. 


You  cannot  afford  to  make  enemies — 
the  devil  sends  plenty  without  your  aid. 


156  SAUSAGES 

ODE  TO  A  POWDER  RAG 


The  phrase  "To  be  or  not  to  be,"  is  never  said  to  a 

powder  rag; 
It's  sure  "to  be"  my  lady  says,  so  carefully  sticks  it  in 

her  bag. 


"O  you  dear  thing,  you  powder  rag,  rag  of  long  ago; 
The  older  we  are,  the  more  the  years,  the  greater  our 
love  doth  grow. 

"I  cherish  you,  my  powder  rag,  rag  of  many  climes; 
To  date,  I've  used  you  day  and  night,  two  thousand 
million  times. 

"I  could  not  live  apart  from  thee;  my  love  for  thee 

doth  burn, 
I'll  part  with  many  other  friends — you're  used  at  every 

turn. 


"I  use  you  early,  use  you  late,  my  tootsy  powder 

puff, 
I  use  you  on  a  railway  train,  I  take  you  in  my  muff. 

"No  harm  shall  ever  come  to  you,  on  hillside,  dell  or 

plain, 
If  I'm  too  hot  I  use  you  much;  too  cold,  I  do  the 

same. 


ODE  TO  A  POWDER  RAG  157 

"Day  in,  day  out,  in  cold  or  heat,  you  stay  close  to 

my  side, 
And  spur  me  on  to  powder  up,  to  rival  any  bride. 

"Apart  from  thee,  I  could  not  live,  our  parting  never 

be! 
I'll   sing   with   operatic   style,   and   rag-time,   rag,   to 

thee." 


You  believe  in  me;  I  believe  in  you; 
and  all  believe  in  God; — means  the  sal 
vation  of  the  world. 


If  ye  seek  ye  shall  find — argal 
put  on  your  specs. 


1 58  SAUSAGES 

REMAKING  MYSELF 

The   psychologists   say   we  can   be   made   over- 
In  temperment. 

They  say  we  now  can  be  made  over. 

Is  that  from  head  to  toe? 
If  this  be  the  real  meaning, 

Here's  what  I  want,  by  Joe ! 

I  want  no  freckles  on  my  skin. 

Put  beauty  spots  instead; 
For  luck  give  me  a  mole  or  two 

Then  please,  a  whole  new  head. 

Put  in  that  head  more  brains  you  bet; 

O,  brains  with  common  sense; 
Then  make  my  daily  earning  power 

Worth  more  than  thirty  cents. 

And  while  you're  doing  up  the  job 

GivTe  disposition  new, 
And  sprinkle  round  some  patience  mild 

And  make  me  Dutch  instead  of  Jew. 

Remove  my  nose  which  is  too  large, 
And  make  my  teeth  look  straight ; 

And  make  my  ears  more  like  a  man's — • 
Not  a  jackass's  mate. 

And  don't  forget  that  mouth  of  mine — • 

It  really  is  too  large, 
And  says  too  much  the  whole  day  long- 

And  then,  this  bill,  please  charge. 

And  when  you  have  me  made  all  over 

And  I  am  not  myself; 
Just  send  the  bill  to  whom  I  was, 

And  keep  the  change  yourself. 


SAUSAGES  150 


EASTER 


We   should    think   of   the    Eastertide, 
Of  Christ  and  the  Easter  Morn, 

Of  the  sepulchre  wide  open, 
Of  the  joy  that  Christ  was  born. 

We  should  think  of  life  eternal, 
Of  loving  deeds  and  "Acts"— 

But  nay,  the  question  eternal: 
What  about  our  Easter  hats? 


Love  is  the  mainspring  of  all  that 
is  godly — therefore  get  love. 


I  have  been  a  sucker — were 
you  ever  caught? 


160  SAUSAGES 


DETERMINNAYSHUN 


I'll  plan  my  work,  I'll  follow  it, 

For  I'm  on  victory  bent; 
For  all  the  strength  and  will  I  need 

The  gods  to  me  hath  lent. 

I  know  there's  something  I  can  do 

In  this  great  world  I'm  in; 
The  gods  give  me  desire  to  do; 

Desire  has  ever  been. 

I  see  around  me  many  men 
Who  work  with  skillful  hand; 

And  I  affirm  God  means  I,  too, 
Can  do  what  others  can. 

Of  course,  there's  something  I  can  do 

And  be  at  it  expert; 
I'll  find  that  work  and  follow  it — - 

If  I  have  to  tear  my  shirt. 


To  love  me  because  I  love  you 
is  well,  but  to  love  me  if  I  don't 
love  you  is  great — 'tis  divine. 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST"  IS  A  LECTURE 

Tilled  with  Bombs,  Dynamite,  Thunder-bolts  and 
Catling  Guns. 


IT  IS  TO  THINK  AND  LAUGH. 


An  evening  of  sense  and  nonsense;   humorous, 
thrilling  and  dramatic. 


PS 
3503 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACIUTY 


Mill)  II 1 1  III"  III  ii  in  ii  in"  I"11  IMM  •'• 

A    000926436    7 


